UC-NRLF 


SB    253    EMS 


LIBRARY 

OF  THK 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 

OF" 


Received  ,  190     ,. 

Accession  No.    %%   3  0  Li  >    Class  No. 


ALEXANDER  POPE. 
After  the  engraving  by  A.  Pond. 


lEnglislj  Classics  —  Star  Scries 
POPE'S    TRANSLATION 

OF 

HOMER'S    ILIAD 

BOOKS   I,   VI,   XXII,   XXIV 


EDITED   FOK   SCHOOL   USE 
BY 

WILLIAM   CRANSTON   LAWTON 

PROFESSOR  OF  THE   GREEK   LANGUAGE   AND    LITERATURE 
IN   ADELPHI   COLLEGE 


GLOBE   SCHOOL   BOOK   COMPANY 
NEW  YORK  AND  CHICAGO 


Copyright,  11)00,  by 
GLOBE  SCHOOL  BOOK  COMPANY. 


M.  P.    1. 


MANHATTAN  PRESS 

474  W.  BROADWAY 

NEW  YORK 


PREFACE 


IT  is  desirable  that  students  should  read  Pope's  Homer 
first  in  large  masses,  with  little  or  no  annotation  or  dis- 
cussion. The  editor  did  this  with  lasting  profit  at  about 
six  years.  Even  the  present  Introduction,  brief  as  it  is, 
may  be  postponed.  The  paragraphs  011  the  metres  of 
Homer  and  his  translators,  indeed,  possibly  other  sections, 
will  probably  be  suppressed  altogether  by  some  instructors. 
No  apology  seems  needed  for  discussing  the  outward  form 
of  a  great  artistic  masterpiece  and  of  its  imperfect  copies. 

This  edition  is  based  on  a  study  of  Pope's  original 
edition,  1715-1720.  In  particular,  Book  I,  vss.  1-2,  452- 
453,  are  restored  to  a  form  very  different  from  what  we 
may  call  the  "  modern  vulgate."  The  latter  seems  more 
likely  to  have  been  created  by  Warburton  in  1750  than  by 
Pope,  who  died  in  1744.  At  any  rate,  the  original  readings 
are  still  unchanged  in  a  copy  of  Volume  I,  dated  1738,  which 
has  been  substituted  for  the  original,  "  Lady  Masham's 
copy,"  in  the  set  at  the  Astor  Library,  New  York  City. 
Other  restorations  of  Pope's  text  are  I,  72,  fires  for  pyres; 
274,  forsook  for  forsake,  etc. ;  VI,  483,  absent  where  distant 
is  a  recent  error. 

The  Notes  do  not  attempt  to  explain  every  unusual  or 
antiquated  use  of  single  words.  Careful  readers  will  usually 
gather  this  material  best  for  themselves,  and  dictionaries 
are  within  the  reach  of  all.  No  real  difficulty  has  been 
intentionally  passed  over.  Besides  brief  explanation  of 
allusions  to  unfamiliar  matters,  two  subjects  have  been 
more  copiously  and  suggestively  treated.  One  is  the  real 


iv  PREFACE 

nature,  scope,  and  interest  of  the  Hellenic  myths.  The 
other  is  the  many-sided  and  frequent  aberrations  of  Mr. 
Pope  from  the  letter  and  the  spirit  of  Homer's  Iliad.  Like 
other  classical  teachers,  the  editor  hopes  every  pupil  will 
have  gained  his  first  impressions  of  ancient  epic  from  a 
simpler  and  more  faithful  version.  Some  copy  of  a  com- 
plete English  Iliad  should  be  always  accessible,  at  least 
upon  the  teacher's  desk;  for  the  mutilation  of  a  master- 
piece is  always  to  be  regretted,  even  if  unavoidable. 

The  versions  introduced  in  the  notes  are,  for  the  most 
part,  attempts  to  combine  the  utmost  literalness  with  some 
approach  to  the  dactylic  rhythm.  The  editor's  own  ac- 
quaintance with  the  lands  of  Homer,  though  now  twenty 
years  away,  has,  it  is  hoped,  given  some  local  color  to  such 
notes  as  those  on  Book  I,  vss.  568-569  and  XXII,  195. 

Criticisms  and  suggestions  will  be  most  cordially  received 
by  the  editor. 

AUGUST  2,'i,  1900. 


CONTENTS 


INTRODUCTION  : 

I. 

Homer  and  the  Iliad     . 

vii 

II. 

Translations  of  the  Iliad 

xiii 

III. 

Pope  and  his  Age 

XX 

IV. 

Pope's  Homer        .... 

.  xxiv 

ov. 

Notes  on  Supplementary  Reading 

xxviii 

THE    1L 

IAD. 

The  Arguments     .... 

3 

Book  I  

.       17 

Book  VI        

.       40 

Book  XXII   .         .         . 

.       60 

Book  XXIV  

.         .         .         .80 

NOTES 

111 

INTRODUCTION 

Homer  and  the  Iliad 

THE  two  great  epic  poems  ascribed  by  tradition  to 
"Homer/9  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey,  give  us  our  earliest 
picture  of  European  life,  a  picture  taken,  as  it  were,  by  a 
brilliant  flashlight,  centuries  before  the  dawn  of  history. 
As  to  the  real  biography  of  the  poet  or  poets,  we  know 
nothing.  In  the  epics  themselves,  minstrels  are  mentioned 
only  as  attached  to  royal  courts,  and  we  naturally  surmise 
that  the  maker  of  the  Iliad  was  himself  such  a  courtier. 
The  Odyssey  is  generally  felt  to  be  the  work  of  a  later,  more 
refined,  and  thoughtful  age,  perhaps  a  century  younger. 
Few  scholars,  if  any,  believe  that  either  poem  as  it  now 
stands  was  wholly  composed  by  any  one  man.  Yet  the  Iliad 
has  the  true  unity  of  all  artistic  master  works,  and  each 
important  part  has  been  shaped  for  the  place  into  which  it  is 
fitted.  Herodotus,  father  of  history,  himself  living  in  the 
fifth  century  B.C.,  estimates  Homer's  time  to  have  been 
four  hundred  years  earlier.  Recent  students  are  inclined 
to  set  still  farther  back  the  age  of  the  chief  artist  who  gave 
the  Iliad  essentially  its  present  shape. 

Poetry  is  much  older  than  prose.  That  is,  man's  sense 
of  beauty,  his  imagination,  awakes  long  before  the  power, 
or  the  desire,  to  make  a  sober  truthful  chronicle  of  actual 
events.  Homer  does  not  even  profess  to  describe  his  own 
days,  but  only  a  more  heroic  foretime,  of  which  he  really 
knows  nothing.  He  appeals  to  the  Muse  for  inspiration. 
He  must  have  invented  much  of  the  tale.  Yet  he  sees 
everything  most  vividly  himself,  and  makes  us,  even  now, 


Vlli  INTRODUCTION 

see  it  no  less  clearly,  so  that  we  forget  how  much  is  impos- 
sible. 

There  is  a  peculiar  freshness  and  charm  about  Homer's 
scenes  and  people,  heightened,  no  doubt,  by  their  remoteness. 
For  though  they  are  unmistakably  Greek,  as  is  the  language 
they  use,  there  is  a  great  chasm  between  them  and  the  later 
Hellenic  folk  of  authentic  history.  The  rude  Dorians, 
ancestors  of  the  Spartans,  descending  into  the  Peloponnesus 
"  three  generations  after  the  Trojan  war,"  apparently  swept 
away  the  decaying  Achaean  monarchies  that  the  Homeric 
poets  had  known.  Little  save  the  epic  poems  themselves 
was  saved  from  the  wreck.  The  democratic,  mercantile, 
city-loving  Greeks  of  the  historical  period  were  quite 
un-Homeric  in  many  ways. 

The  old  warrior-kings  with  their  submissive  peoples,  their 
chariots,  and  palaces  rich  in  gold,  had  passed  away  leaving 
hardly  a  trace  behind.  In  modern  times,  indeed,  it  was  long 
believed  that  Homer's  men  and  women,  like  his  quarrelsome 
gods,  were  but  such  "  stuff  as  dreams  are  made  of."  But 
the  massive  foundation-walls  of  forts  and  palaces,  the  gold 
plate  and  jewelry,  with  numberless  other  relics,  discovered 
by  Dr.  Schliemann  at  Mycenae,  Tiryns,  and  on  the  hill  of 
Hissarlik  in  the  centre  of  the  Trojan  plain  itself,  have 
demonstrated  that  there  was,  on  both  shores  of  the  ^Egean, 
somewhat  such  a  civilization,  under  Egyptian  and  Oriental 
influences,  as  the  Iliad  depicts.  This  civilization  is  roughly 
assigned  to  the  second  millennium,  2000-1000,  B.C. 

Whether  heroes  and  heroines  quite  like  Achilles  and 
Hector,  Helen  and  Andromache,  even  bearing  these  familiar 
names,  once  really  lived,  we  shall  never  learn.  In  the  ruined 
prehistoric  palaces  no  inscriptions  are  found.  In  the  poems 
there  is  no  certain  allusion  to  writing.  (See  Note  on  Book 
VI.  vs.  210.)  Even  if  it  was  used  for  brief  public  notices,  it 
is  likely  that  poetry  may  have  been  handed  down  for  gener- 
ations merely  by  memory.  Certainly  the  creative  imagina- 


INTRODUCTION  ix 

tion  of  Homer,  or  the  myth-making  age  behind  him,  was  no 
way  hampered  by  any  historical  records.  We  should  read 
the  Iliad,  then,  at  least  for  the  first  time,  with  a  light  heart, 
as  pure  poetry.  Do  not  ask  how  much  of  it  is  literally  true. 
Realistic  natural  scenery  it  certainly  offers  us,  as  the  land- 
scapes of  Greece  still  prove.  The  arts,  the  manners,  the 
characters,  may  often  be  no  less  truthful.  Homgr's  men  and 
women,  his  gods  and  goddesses,  are  wonderfully  alive  and 
human,  often  strangely  like  ourselves  —  especially  like  our 
boys,  or  "  strenuous"  men.  But  the  golden  thread  of  fable 
and  marvel  is  woven  inextricably  into  every  scene  of  the 
great  tapestry :  the  picture  as  a  whole  is  true  only  to  the 
higher  reality  of  ideal  and  imperishable  beauty. 

The  Iliad  has  influenced  not  only  Greek  and  Roman 
literature,  but  all  our  poetry  since,  far  more  than  any 
other  work.  Perfect  familiarity  with  the  Homeric  myths 
is  the  first  step  in  the  connected  study  of  European  liter- 
ature. Happily,  the  subject  is  as  fascinating  and  delight- 
ful as  it  is  important. 

The  Iliad,  i.e.  the  legend  of  Ilios,  or  Troy,  like  all  the 
best  stories,  is  a  tale  of  love  and  strife.  It  deals  directly 
with  a  single  brief  episode  only,  in  a  much  larger  legend : 
the  tale  of  Troy's  fall,  through  the  baleful  influence  of  Helen. 
The  most  beautiful  woman  of  the  age,  wedded  to  gentle 
King  Menelaus  in  Sparta,  she  has  eloped  with  her  alien 
guest  Paris,  the  roving  son  of  the  old  Trojan  King  Priam. 
Therefore  all  the  Greek  princes,  with  their  hundred  thousand 
men-at-arms,  —  united  as  the  Hellas  of  historical  times  never 
was,  —  have  crossed  to  Asia  in  the  pursuit.  For  ten  long  years 
their  ships  have  rotted  on  the  Hellespontine  shore.  Their 
commander  is  Agamemnon,  lord  of  Mycenae,  Menelaus' 
brother.  The  resistless  Greek  champion,  however,  is  the 
Thessalian  prince  Achilles,  son  of  a  mortal  king  by  Thetis, 
loveliest  of  water  nymphs.  Ajax  of  Salamis,  Achilles' 
cousin  on  the  human  side,  is  next  him  in  might  and  prowess. 


X  INTRODUCTION 

Among  the  other  chiefs  old  Nestor  of  Pylos,  crafty  Odysseus 
(Ulysses)  from  the  rocky  isle  Ithaca,  Diomedes  modest  and 
fearless,  are  favorite  characters. 

Paris'  elder  brother  Hector  is  the  chief  defender  of  Troy, 
"  the  bulwark  of  the  city/7  but  no  one  dares  meet  Achilles 
in  the  open  plain.  Many  allies  from  Asiatic  lands  have  come 
to  Priam's  aid.  His  walls  are  strong.  Great  stores  of 
wealth  and  provisions  within  the  town  have  enabled  him  to 
hold  out  thus  far.  But  the  end  is  drawing  nigh.  They  who 
beleaguer  and  they  who  watch  upon  the  tower  alike  know 
that  Hector's  gleaming  helmet  and  Priam's  ancient  throne 
must  fall  in  the  dust  at  last,  because  Paris'  grievous  sin  is 
unatoned.  (See  Note  on  XXII.  1/58.)  • 

The  Greek  poet  apparently  imagines  the  Trojans  as  speak- 
ing the  same  language  with  their  foes.  Indeed,  the  city  has 
been  for  generations  a  favorite  of  the  Greek  divinities,  its 
walls  were  built  of  old  by  Apollo  and  Poseidon,  the  sea  god. 
The  Trojan  customs  seem  to  differ  little  from  the  Greek, 
except,  Indeed,  that  Priam  lives  in  open  polygamy.  And 
yet,  something  of  that  great  contrast  between  Europe  and 
Asia,  Occident  and  Orient,  which  has  lasted  to  our  own  day, 
appears  at  times  to  lend  a  larger  typical  meaning  to  the  strife 
in  the  Scamandrian  plain. 

The  quarrelsome  gods,  in  their  council  upon  Mt.  Olympus, 
devote  almost  their  entire  debate  to  the  Trojan  battlefields, 
and  often  actually  take  part  on  either  side  in  the  fray.  The 
divinities  of  Homer,  however,  are  drawn  with  little  rev- 
erence, and  often  show  less  dignity  than  his  men  and 
women.  The  Greek  hardly  shares  the  Hebrew's  reticence 
and  awe  in  the  presence  of  deity.  Not  liable  to  death  like 
mortals,  yet  swayed  by  every  human  passion,  these  gods 
and  goddesses  often  seem  mere  ogres,  deserving  the  laughter 
or  contempt  of  fearless  heroic  men. 

The  Homeric  common  people  count  for  little  in  peace  or 
war.  The  artistic  treatment  of  Diomedes  or  Hector  reminds 


INTRODUCTION  xi 

us  of  those  Assyrian  reliefs,  wherein  the  colossal  inonarchs 
tower  higher  than  city  walls  among  their  pygmy  followers. 
So  the  Homeric  host  makes  but  an  animated  background  for 
the  heroes  who  contend  from  chariots,  or,  dismounting,  wage 
stately  duels  on  foot.  Hiding  on  horseback  is  unknown 
among  them,  though  the  poet  once,  in  a  simile,  describes  a 
very  skillful  acrobat,  managing  four  horses  on  an  open  road 
and  leaping  from  one  to  another.  (Pope's  Homer,  XV. 
822-829.) 

In  the  general  assembly  a  man  of  the  people  once  raises 
his  voice,  only  to  be  silenced  and  soundly  beaten  by  a  prince, 
while  satirized  by  the  poet  as  the  ugliest  and  most  detested 
of  men,  at  whose  disgrace  all  the  folk  laugh  merrily. 
Except  this  cynical  sketch  of  a  low-born  demagogue,  the 
commons  are  only  heard  assenting  humbly  to  the  proposals 
of  their  leaders. 

The  relations  between  Agamemnon,  the  war-lord,  and  the 
eight  or  ten  other  "  kings  "  of  the  inner  council  are  not  so 
easy  to  define.  If  Homer  were  a  grave  historian,  we  might 
promptly  accept  Thucydides'  sensible  conclusion,  that  Aga- 
memnon must  have  had  the  power  to  compel  their  submis- 
sion as  vassals.  But  in  a  romance  more  chivalric  motives 
may  decide  the  action.  If  he  was  at  first  the  voluntary 
choice  in  a  council  of  allies,  there  is  at  any  rate  no  suggestion 
raised  of  deposing  him,  even  when  he  utters  words  of  abject 
cowardice  and  despair.  Achilles  certainly  talks  as  if  he 
himself  had  come,  and  could  depart,  of  his  own  sovereign 
will.;  and  Agamemnon,  with  all  his  rashness  of  speech, 
makes  no  threat  to  detain  him.  On  the  whole,  it  seems 
probable  that  all  the  great  chiefs,  Achilles,  Nestor,  Ajax, 
Odysseus,  Idomeneus,  Diomedes,  and  others,  claim  full  inde- 
pendence, yet  the  imperial  power  and  wealth  of  Mycenae 
are  so  great  that 'no  other  state  could  aspire  to  the  actual 
leadership.  As  if  there  should  be  an  alliance  of  American 
republics,  for  instance,  in  which  Chili  or  Mexico  might 


xii  INTRODUCTION 

remain  or  not,  but  certainly  could  never  dispute  our 
supremacy. 

We  must  always  remember,  however,  the  isolation  of  the 
Homeric  poesy.  We  get  only  a  fragmentary  tale,  with 
hints  of  what  came  before  and  after.  Later  Greek  poets 
and  chroniclers  have  indeed  added  for  a  thousand  years  to 
the  great  web,  but  their  inventions  may  be  no  more  Homeric 
than  Tennyson's  or  Andrew  Lang's.  Even  in  our  accepted 
text  some  beautiful  passages  are  undoubtedly  late  in  origin. 
The  cities  depicted  on  Achilles'  shield  are  comparatively 
modern  democratic  communes,  such  as  Agamemnon  could 
never  have  dreamed  of.  Many  even  of  the  famous  myths 
in  the  Trojan  cycle  —  Hecuba's  dream,  Paris'  choice, 
Achilles'  education,  ^Eneas'  wanderings  —  are  pretty  cer- 
tainly post-Homeric.  (See  especially,  Art  and  Humanity 
m  Homer,  pp.  243-262.) 

Very  few  incidents  are  recorded  which  can  be  assigned  to 
the  first  nine  years  of  strife.  The  Greeks,  led  usually  by 
Achilles,  have  sacked  in  their  forays  many  lesser  towns 
about  the  Troad.  The  camp  is  overflowing  with  captives, 
especially  women,  the  men  having  been  slain  or  sold  in 
neighboring  islands.  The  incidents  of  the  Iliad  fill  but 
a  few  weeks  altogether,,  only  four.xiay is  of  actual  lighting,  in 
the  last  year  of  the  war. 

Achilles,  even  during  his  long  absence  from  the  field,  is 
the  central  figure  in  the  Plomeric  story.  It  is  that  absence 
that  brings  swift  disaster  upon  the  Greeks.  The  shadow  of 
his  approaching  death,  foreseen  and  prophesied  by  his  horse, 
by  his  mother,  by  dying  Hector,  gives  a  doubly  tragic  char- 
acter to  the  whole  tale.  Perhaps  we  may  fairly  regard  the 
Iliad,  on  its  ethical  side,  as  the  story  of  Achilles'  education 
through  suffering. 

The  strongest  and  noblest  personal  tie,  in  ancient  Greece, 
the  spur  to  all  chivalric  accomplishment,  was  felt  to  be  not 
love  for  woman,  but  devoted  friendship  between  man  and 


INTRODUCTION  Xlii 

man.  In  this  respect  the  Iliad  is  thoroughly  Hellenic. 
The  princess  Briseis  was  to  have  been  the  honored  wife  of 
her  captor  Achilles ;  at  least  his  friend  Patroclus  had  often 
so  assured  her.  When  Agamemnon  takes  her  by  violence, 
Achilles  refuses  to  fight  longer  under  such  a  lawless  tyrant. 
Yet  Patroclus'  pleadings  induce  Achilles  at  least  to  let  him 
fight,  in  his  mightier  comrade's  panoply.  The  death  of  his 
friend  effaces  from  Achilles7  mind  the  former  grievance.  In 
his  thirst  for  vengeance  upon  Hector  he  instantly  condones 
Agamemnon's  injustice,  and  also  ignores  the  repeated  warn- 
ing :  — 

"  Quickly  for  thec  after  Hector  by  destiny  death  is  appointed." 

It  is  especially  important  to  remember  this  preference  of 
the  Greeks  for  manly  friendship  over  wedded  love,  for 
instance  in  reading  the  Sixth  Book.  Andromache's  tears 
may  well  call  forth  our  own ;  but  all  the  sentiments  inher- 
ited from  the  centuries  of  Christian  chivalry  are  aiding  their 
power  over  113.  Certainly  the  Greek  poet,  while  painting 
with  force  the  misery  of  woman's  lot  in  war,  is  merely  using 
her,  like  all  figures  of  the  legend,  in  due  subordination 
within  a  great  unified  picture.  Troy  is  drifting  to  deserved 
and  utter  shipwreck  on  the  reef  of  Justice.  The  moral 
lesson,  as  in  every  supremely  great  artistic  work,  is  wrought 
into  the  whole  plot  of  the  Trojan  epic,  not  attached  any- 
where as  a  tag. 

Translations  of  the  Iliad 

Whether  poetry  as  such  is  translatable  at  all  is  an  ever- 
debated  question.  Of  course,  the  peculiar  harmonies  of  each 
great  human  language,  like  its  idioms,  can  be  fully  felt  by  none 
save  the  native  born,  and  understood  by  the  alien  only  through 
painful  year-long  effort.  No  copy  can  reproduce  the  merits  of 
the  masterpiece.  Faust,  the  Commedia,  the  ^Eneid,  the  Iliad, 
are  well  worth  all  the  toil  it  costs  to  read  each  in  the  original. 


xiv  INTRODUCTION 

Nevertheless,  the  case  of  the  Homeric  poems  is  somewhat 
unique.  They  may  almost  be  said  to  exist  only  j;  transla- 
tions. Even  our  Greek  text  is  a  late  Attic  copy,  with  an 
alphabet,  spelling,  accents,  etc.,  that  Homer  never  knew. 
The  original  form  can  never  be  recovered  We  have  little 
idea  how  the  verses  sounded  when  firs.,  recited.  Probably 
no  people  ever  spoke,  at  any  one  time,  what  we  call  the  epic 
dialect,  in  which  contracted  and  protracted  forms  of  the. 
same  words,  colloquial  idioms  and  evident  archaisms,  stand 
side  by  side  much  as  in  the  Faerie  Queene.  The  meaning 
of  many  words  the  Greeks  guessed  from  the  connection,  and 
we  must  often  do  the  same. 

Only  a  small  minority  even  among  the  educated  can  first 
master  Attic  Greek,  and  then  gain,  by  years  of  special  study, 
the  imperfect  knowledge  attainable  of  the  epic  dialect.  The 
real  question  is  therefore,  Through  what  translations  shall 
the  overwhelming  majority  make  Homer's  acquaintance? 
The  first,  and  many  good  critics  add,  the  best,  of  all  Euro- 
pean poems,  the  Iliad  and  Odyssey  should,  in  some  form,  be 
among  the  familiar  treasures  of  every  household. 

There  is  a  widespread  tendency  in  our  own  time  to 
demand  of  the  translator  merely  a  faithful  rendering  of  the 
thoughts,  to  renounce  all  attempt  at  indicating  the  metrical 
or  other  artistic  form,  of  his  original.  Most  Hellenists,  for 
instance,  would  put  first  into  the  English  reader's  hands 
the  deservedly  popular  recent  translation  of  the  Iliad  by 
three  English  scholars,  Messrs.  Lang,  Leaf,  and  Myers.  The 
present  editor  cordially  agrees  that  this  book  should  at  least 
be  within  the  reach  of  every  careful  student,  and  should 
serve  constantly  to  remind  him  how  much  has  been  added, 
distorted,  or  removed,  by  the  freer  metrical  translator. 

But  the  one  indispensable  and  constant  feature  in  a  poem 
is  the  line  or  verse,  which  should  in  any  language  correspond 
closely  in  length  to  the  average  sentence  or  clause.  A  trans- 
lation which  gives  us  no  idea  where  the  original  verse  ended 


INTRODUCTION  XV 

deprives  us  of  a  most  important  element  in  that  original. 
Is  such  a  loss  inevitable  ? 

The  Iliad  consists  of  fifteen  thousand  lines,  all  in  dactylic 
hexameter.  This  verse  is  entirely  too  long  for  a  single 
clause  in  Greek  or  English,  nor  can  it  be  spoken  or  chanted 
in  one  breath.  It  is,  in  fact,  a  couplet,  the  so-called  caesura 
marking  the  union  of  two  true  verses,  e.g. :  — 

"  If  you  would  have  it  well  done,|| 

—  I  am  only  repeating  your  maxim — 
You  must  do  it  yourself,  || 

You  must  not  leave  it  to  others." 

To  compose  such  verses  at  all  in  English  is  very  difficult, 
chiefly  because  our  language  has  a  well-marked  iambic  move- 
ment. To  produce  an  harmonic  effect  closely  resembling 
the  Greek'is  simply  impossible,  because  our  words  contain 
more  than  twice  as  many  consonantal  sounds.  Thus  the 
first  line  of  the  Iliad  has  only  eleven  non-vocalic  elements, 
five  even  of  these  liquids.  In  English  letters  it  reads  : 
Menin  aeide  thea,  Peleiadeo  Achileos.  Longfellow's  lines 
just  quoted  have  twenty -three  and  twenty -four  consonant 
elements.  Such  a  verse  as  this  Homeric  one  probably  could 
not  be  put  together  out  of  English  words  at  all. 

The  most  popular  German  version  of  the  Iliad,  by  the  poet 
Voss,  is  in  hexameters,  and  follows  Homer  almost  perfectly 
line  by  line,  from  the  first  verse, 

"  Singe  den  Zorn,  o  Gottin,  des  Peleiaden  Achilleus" 
to  the  quiet  close, 

"  Also  bestatteten  jene  den  Leib  des  reisigen  Hektor." 

The  same  attempt  has  been  made  in  English  twice,  at 
least,  with  unsatisfactory  results.  There  is  still  reason, 
perhaps,  to  hope  that  a  great  master  of  rhythm,  like  Mr. 
Swinburne,  may  produce  an  English  hexameter  version  quite 
equal  to  that  of  Voss.  The  English  reader  should  notice 


xvi  INTRODUCTION 

that  in  all  languages  the  close  of  this  long  verse  is  pretty 
clearly  marked,  by  the  short  final  foot  of  two  syllables  only ; 
but  the  medial  pause  is  not  so  unmistakable,  may  be  double, 
as  in 

"  You  are  a  writer,  ||  and  I  am  a  fighter, ||  but  here  is  a  fellow," 

or  again  is  hardly  to  be  located  at  all.  While  offensive  in 
English  to  most  scholars,  because  so  diverse  in  melody  from 
its  classical  prototype,  this  movement  is  a  favorite  with  the 
many,  as  the  extreme  popularity  of  Evangeline  indicates. 

The  form  generally  used  for  sustained  epic  or  dramatic 
composition  by  our  poets  is  "  blank  verse,"  i.e.  a  ten-syllable 
unrhymed  iambic  line.  But  this  is  dangerously  near  to 
prose.  It  gives  a  very  placid,  slow  effect,  wholly  unlike  the 
dactyl's  buoyant  step.  The  meaning  of  an  Homeric  verse 
cannot  usually  be  packed  into  one  such  line,  still  less  can  it 
be  stretched  over  two.  Hence  we  shall  find,  in  every  such 
version,  that  the  unit  of  the  thought  is  broken  up.  The 
translator  must  make  from  a  third  to  a  half  more  lines  than 
in  the  Greek  Iliad.  The  especial  melodic  weakness  of  this 
unrhymed  iambic  line  is,  that  its  close  is  absolutely  un- 
marked metrically.  While  Lord  Derby's  translation  is 
perhaps  the  most  scholarly  in  this  form,  the  well-known  one. 
by  our  American  poet,  William  Culleii  Bryant,  is  particularly 
musical,  and  always  dignified.  But  the  lack  of  unity  in  the 
line,  the  extreme  slowness  of  the  movement,  are  both  world- 
wide from  Homer.  The  noble  opening  verses  of  Thana- 
topsis,  for  instance,  are  always  divided,  read,  and  heard,  as 
prose  —  rather  slow  and  heavy  prose,  too.  Poetry  should 
always  have  some  share  in  the  swiftness  and  lightness  of 
song.  Tennyson  felt  the  necessity  of  lyrics  in  other  metres, 
with  wealth  of  rhyme,  to  vary  the  monotonous  movement 
of  the  Princess,  and  of  the  great  Arthurian  cycle.  Shake- 
speare closes  his  scenes  with  rhymed  couplets.  Even  Para- 
dise  Lost  is  by  no  means  light  reading. 


INTRODUCTION  xvii 

End-rhyme  is  in  some  languages,  notably  in  Italian,  so 
natural  and  recurrent  as  to  be  110  fetter  at  all  for  the  poet. 
In  English  it  is  a  grievous  burden,  often  an  insuperable  bar 
to  fittest  expression.  Even  in  brief  lyric,  we  may  hope  it 
will  yet  come  to  be  regarded  as  merely  one  form  of  orna- 
ment, or  rather  of  emphasis,  to  be  used  only  when  peculiarly 
appropriate.  Tennyson  himself  in  Tears,  Idle  Tears, 
Merlin  and  the  Gleam,  etc.,  has  escaped  altogether  from 
rhyme.  In  long  epic  and  dramatic  compositions,  both 
English  and  German,  unrhymed  verse  is  the  rule,  as  it 
should  be.  The  Homeric  translator  has  one  additional 
difficulty.  He  cannot  freely  omit,  insert,  or  rearrange  his 
matter.  He  is  expected,  more  or  less  literally,  to  follow  his 
copy.  By  a  recurring  obligatory  rhyme  his  attempt  is  made 
a  hopeless  struggle  from  the  beginning. 

To  all  these  difficulties  Philip  Worsley  bade  lightest- 
hearted  deliance,  choosing  as  the  form  for  his  translations 
the  elaborate  Spenserian  stanza  of  nine  lines,  with  its  system 
of  interwoven  rhymes.  This  stanza  of  course  introduces  a 
second  and  larger  unit  of  measure,  to  which  nothing  in 
Homeric  metre  or  thought  corresponds.  Its  luxurious  lei- 
surely harmony  becomes  wearisome  in  great  mass.  Few  men 
have  read  the  Faerie  Qneene  without  nagging.  Worsley 
completed  the  Odyssey,  but  died  when  the  Iliad  was  half 
rendered.  He  varies,  of  course,  constantly,  from  the  letter, 
not  rarely  from  the  spirit,  of  his  original.  Nevertheless, 
this  is  one  of  the  most  exquisite  masterpieces  of  trans- 
lation in  the  language,  and  should  always  be  prominent 
in  any  shelf  of  English  Homers.  The  versatile  genius  of 
Professor  Coningtoii  added  the  remaining  twelve  books  of 
the  Iliad  in  the  same  metre,  almost  as  skillfully  handled. 

All  the  English  renderings  thus  far  mentioned  are  of 
the  nineteenth  century.  Pope's  chief  predecessor  was  the 
Elizabethan  poet,  Chapman,  whose  Homer  has  been  made 
doubly  famous  by  the  enthusiastic  sonnet  of  Keats.  We 


xviii  INTRODUCTION 

do  not  believe  Chapman  has  now,  or  will  ever  again  have, 
many  readers.  He  is  spirited,  swift  in  movement,  seems 
usually  a  competent  Grecian.  Bnt  his  own  imagination  is 
audacious,  all  but  Shakespearean,  while  his  power,  perhaps 
even  his  desire,  for  clear  and  simple  expression  lags  far 
behind.  We  can  hardly  read  ten  consecutive  lines  any- 
where, without  becoming  entangled  in  some  elaborated 
"  conceit "  which,  when  unraveled  and  explained,  turns  out 
to  be  purely  Elizabethan  fancy,  as  far  removed  as  may  be 
from  Homer's  natural,  straightforward,  objective,  yet  ever 
fitting  and  often  noble  style.  In  Chapman  not  even  the 
plainest  narrative  passages  are  simple,  or  easy,  for  any 
length.  For  instance,  in  the  Sixth  Book,  when  Andromache 
recalls  the  sack  of  her  native  city,  her  brother's  death,  her 
father's  lonely  tomb  built  by  the  merciless  conqueror 
Achilles,  she  adds  :  — 

V 

44  And  the  elms  are  growing  about  it, 
Set  by  the  Oreads,  children  of  Zeus  who  is  lord  of  the  aegis." 

Merely  a  quiet  line  and  a  half.  To  be  sure,  it  is  curiously 
suggestive.  This  sympathy  of  the  personified  powers  of 
nature  with  man's  grief  seems  to  anticipate  Wordsworth  or 
Bryant.  Pope  (vss.  531-533,  infra,  p.  55)  adds  only  a  harm- 
less line  for  the  rhyme,  and  hardly  seems  impressed.  Hear 

Chapman :  — 

' '  And  to  the  monument 

He  left  of  him,  th'  Oreades  (that  are  the  high  descent 
Of  ^Egis-bearing  Jupiter)  another  of  their  own 
Did  add  to  it,  and  set  it  round  with  elms  ;  by  which  is  shown, 
In  theirs,  the  barrenness  of  death  ;  yet  might  it  serve  beside 
To  shelter  the  sad  monument  from  all  the  ruffinous  pride 
Of  storms  and  tempests,  us'd  to  hurt  things  of  that  noble  kind." 

Of  course  this  is  an  extreme  case.  Chapman's  constant 
embroidery  of  his  plain  theme  is  oftener  limited  to  added 
metaphors  and  startling  or  quaint  epithets.  Indeed,  with 


INTRODUCTION  xix 

occasional  bold  abridgment,  he  manages  to  pack  his  work 
into  about  the  same  number  of  lines  as  Homer's.  The 
iambic  movement  is  natural,  the  fourteen  syllables  give  just 
about  space  enough  for  the  average  Greek  line.  But  the 
rhyme  often  carries  him  far  afield  in  desperate  quest,  and 
besides,  the  whole  movement  is  associated  in  English  almost 
solely  with  the  brief,  willful,  not  too  dignified  flight  of  the 
popular  ballad.  Homer  has  retained  all  the  picturesque 
vividness,  the  vigor,  the  joyous  freshness  of  the  minstrel's 
art  in  the  ballad  age,  which  doubtless  lay  behind  him ;  but 
no  hint  of  its  crudeness,  jerkiness,  and  occasional  descent  to 
prosaic  vulgarity. 

There  is  a  temptation  to  quote,  for  Chapman,  Voltaire's 
rash  dictum  on  Dante,  that  "he  will  always  be  praised 
because  he  will  never  be  read."  But  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
every  school  library  should  contain,  if  not  a  copy  in  the 
original  Elizabethan  spelling,  at  least  the  pretty  modern- 
ized reprint  of  this  version  included  in  the  Knickerbocker 
Nuggets.  (Chapman  is  further  cited  and  criticised,  Book 
VI.,  last  note,  XXIV.,  first  note  ) 

It  may  be  worth  while  to  mention  that  Pope's  acknowl- 
edged master,  Dryden,  rendered  one  book  of  the  Iliad,  of 
course  in  rhymed  iambics.  A  member  of  Addison's  little 
coffee-house  circle,  Tickell,  published  a  similar  version  of 
Book  I.,  simultaneously  with  Pope's  first  volume.  Pope's 
jealousy  had  probably  no  real  ground  for  ascribing  this  feeble 
performance  to  Addison  himself.  It  is  of  interest  to  us  now 
only  because  it  precipitated  the  hostility  between  the  pass- 
ing and  the  coming  leader  of  literary  men,  and  so  perhaps 
gave  us  Pope's  one  unrivaled  masterpiece,  the  most  deadly 
and  the  most  unjust  satire  ever  penned,  the  epigrammatic 
delineation  of  Atticus. 


XX  INTRODUCTION 

Pope  and  his  Age 

It  is  a  singular  fact  that  the  most  famous  English  version 
of  Homer,  perhaps  the  most  profitable  venture  in  transla- 
tion ever  made,  appeared  when  poetic  imagination  and 
classical  scholarship  alike  were  at  low  ebb,  and  was  the  pro- 
^luction  of  a  youth  whose  feeble  physique,  narrow  jealous 
temper,  and  provincial  sectarian  training  united  to  make 
him  seem  peculiarly  un-Homeric  and  un-Hellenic.  To  ex- 
plain the  instant  fame  and  lasting  vogue  of  Pope's  Homer 
is  a  hard  task  indeed. 

The  glorious  sunburst  of  the  national  genius  in  the  poetry 
of  Spenser,  Marlowe,  Shakespeare,  and  their  time  spent  itself 
swiftly.  The  old  age  of  Milton  was  lonely  in  every  sense. 
Under  the  rule  of  his  fellow-Puritans  creative  imagi- 
nation perished,  with  the  gayety  and  merriment  of  Tudor 
England.  Recent  essayists  may  find  a  few  more  stepping- 
stones  across  the  great  gap  from  Milton's  death  until  the 
"return  to  Nature"  by  Coleridge  and  Wordsworth  at  the 
close  of  the  next  century.  Certainly  the  Castle  of  Indolence, 
a  little  sheaf  of  Gray's  poems,  perhaps  the  beloved  Deserted 
Village,  will  always  be  included  in  the  anthologies  of  our 
best  verse.  Yet  upon  the  whole  the  eighteenth  century,  as 
to  works  of  purely  imaginative  force,  stands  poor  indeed 
between  its  two  happier  neighbors  in  the  tale  of  English 
literature. 

The  age  of  Anne,  at  the  opening  of  that  century,  was 
a  peculiarly  self-satisfied  time.  Her  courtly  wits  never 
doubted  that  classic  taste,  polish,  artistic  form,  if  not  their 
original  creation,  owed  to  them  at  least  a  happier  renaissance. 
Not  only  was  antiquated  Chaucer  cast  in  fresher  forms  of 
speech,  even  crude  Shakespeare  must  needs  be  rewritten. 
Undoubtedly  they  really 'felt  that  Ovid,  at  least,  probably 
Virgil  and  Homer,  were  infinitely  bettered  by  their  modern 
and  English  dress. 


INTRODUCTION  xxi 

Of  course  we  really  owe  a  debt  to  the  men  of  the  peruke 
and  ruffles,  though  not  chiefly  in  the  ways  they  imagine. 
Dryden,  for  instance,  who  reigned  unquestioned,  and  with 
no  misgivings  as  to  his  own  worth,  among  the  "  wits  "  of  his 
latter  days  (1631-1700),  is  hardly  remembered  at  all  as  a 
dramatist.  In  our  national  lyric  he  occupies  a  modest  space 
only.  We  recall  him  chiefly  as  the  creator  of  a  more  natu- 
ral, crisp,  and  flexible  prose  than  Milton's.  Addison  (1672- 
1719)  and  his  friends  first  developed  the  brief  essay,  the 
playful,  genial  tone  of  satire,  in  fact  revealed  the  value  of 
the  light  and  polite  touch.  Fielding  (1707-1754)  begins  the 
long  array  of  great  novelists.  Perhaps  the  one  supreme 
masterpiece  of  the  age  is  that  eternal  favorite  of  boyhood, 
Robinson  Crusoe,  though  its  author  (Defoe,  1661-1731)  was 
little  worthy  to  succeed  the  writer  of  Pilgrim's  Progress 
(Bunyan,  1628-1688)  in  the  honors  of  imprisonment  and 
persecution.  In  sheer  force  of  creative  fancy  the  largest 
share  must  doubtless  be  credited  to  the  chronicler  of  Gulli- 
ver7 s  Travels,  the  foul-mouthed,  cynical,  brutally  tender 
Dean  Swift  (1667-1745);  and,  by  the  way,  the  stanch,  life- 
long friendship  of  Swift  and  Pope,  free  from  all  jealousy  or 
detraction  on  either  side,  is  perhaps  the  pleasantest  feature 
in  both  careers.  But  on  the  whole  the  central  literary  fig- 
ure, in  the  half-century  of  Anne  and  the  earlier  Georges,  is 
poor,  feeble,  shapeless  little  Alexander  Pope  (1688-1744), 
standing  in  grotesque  physical  contrast  to  sturdy  John 
Dryden  and  the  yet  burlier  Samuel  Johnson,  on  either  hand, 
—  as  Lowell,  I  believe,  suggests  in  his  stimulating  essay  on 
Pope. 

Pope  was  born  of  devout,  rather  obscure,  but  well-to-do 
Catholic  parents,  in  the  very  year  in  which  the  fall  of  the 
last  Stuart  king  assured  the  final  triumph  of  English  Prot- 
estantism. Though  not  now  in  danger  of  life  or  liberty,  the 
Romanists  we're  long  excluded  from  a  University  career,  and 
from  every  political  position.  In  social  life  also  they  bore  a 


xxii  INTRODUCTION 

certain  stigma,  especially  the  constant  suspicion  of  disloy- 
alty. The  unresting  life  of  the  Jesuit  Father  Holt  in 
Henry  Esmond  is  perhaps  a  fairly  typical  sketch.  Under 
such  family  priests,  and  in  obscure  Catholic  schools,  young 
Pope  was  trained  till  his  twelfth  year.  His  father  meantime 
had  retired  from  business  in  London  to  the  village  of  Bin- 
field,  on  the  edge  of  the  Windsor  forests.  Through  his  'teens 
the  sickly,  precocious,  ambitious  boy  appears  to  have  browsed 
without  restraint  or  guidance  in  his  father's  library.  Some 
ability  to  read  French  and  Latin  he  undoubtedly  picked  up. 
As  to  Greek,  we  are  left  to  his  unsupported  claims  —  and 
our  own  blank  incredulity. 

Pope  was  seriously  misshapen  and  puny  physically,  and 
was  never  able  to  dress  or  undress  himself.  The  feeble  body, 
the  constant  struggle  to  keep  the  flickering  candle  of  life 
burning,  the  consuming,  unwearying  effort  to  acquire  literary 
perfection,  must  remind  us  of  Robert  Louis  Stevenson.  But 
the  lifelong  cheeriness,  the  world-wide  open-heartedness, 
the  generous  delight  in  other  men's  success,  was  almost 
wholly  lacking. 

Some  poetic  imaginativeness  Pope  does  show,  as  it  were 
in  spite  of  himself:  in  spite,  certainly,  of  a  most  unfavor- 
able environment.  His  age  seems  to  have  held  the  firm 
belief  that  originality  of  thought  was  no  longer  possible, 
hardly  even  to  be  desired.  Wits,  rather  than  poets,  the 
men  of  letters  preferred  to  call  themselves ;  and  Pope 
himself  early  supplied  the  accepted  definition  :  — 

u  True  wit  is  nature  to  advantage  dress'd, 
What  oft  was  thought,  but  ne'er  so  well  expressed. " 

Of  course,  we  may  not  consent  to  substitute  "  wit "  for 
"  poetry,"  nor  to  accept  such  a  definition  of  either.  We 
demand  freshness  of  thought,  or  clearer  revelation  of  nature, 
and  the  simpler  its  expression  the  better.  We  do  not  think 
homely  truth  "  dress'd  to  advantage "  in  courtly  finery. 


INTRODUCTION  xxiii 

Pope   usually  takes  a   familiar   thought ;    for  example,  — 
"  Evil  things  don't  seem  so  bad  as  you  get  used  to  'em." 
Add  a  vague  personification,  one  or  two  antitheses,  pack 
neatly  in  the  orthodox  rhymed  couplets  :  — 

"  Vice  is  a  monster  of  so  frightful  mien 
As,  to  be  hated,  needs  but  to  be  seen. 
Yet  seen  too  oft,  familiar  with  her  face, 
We  first  endure,  then  pity,  then  embrace." 

To  most  of  us  this  is  neither  poetry  nor  wit,  but  just 
minted  commonplace.  Of  such  couplets  the  early  Essay 
on  Criticism,  the  mature  Essay  on  Man,  are  essentially 
made  up. 

This  at  least  we  must  concede,  that,  within  the  monot- 
onous metrical  form,  the  moralists  and  satirists  of  the  last 
century  expressed  their  rather  obvious  thoughts  tersely, 
clearly,  vigorously.  To  that  extent  Pope's  work,  in  partic- 
ular, will  always  be  a  model  of  English  style  ;  and  a  model 
whose  merits  can  be  analyzed,  expounded,  in  large  measure 
acquired  by  all. 

An  attractive  feature  in  the  literary  life  of  Queen  Anne's 
day  is  the  great  influence  exerted  by  clever  writers  in  the 
social  and  political  world,  the  eager  promptness  with  which 
a  promising  author  was  hailed  and  encouraged.  Addison's 
high  scholarship  at  the  University  did  not  save  him  later 
from  obscurity,  poverty,  and  discouragement;  but  his 
mediocre  poetical  flight  after  Marlborough's  victory  at 
Blenheim  won  him  a  generous  salaried  post,  and  opened 
the  way  to  unbroken  prosperity  thereafter.  We  get  a 
pleasant  glimpse,  too,  of  Swift  as  a  bustling  dictator  in 
the  royal  antechamber,  ordering  a  youthful  nobleman  to 
subscribe  his  six  guineas  for  the  translation  of  Homer 
which  "  young  Mr.  Pope  "  had  just  begun  (November,  1713). 

Pope's  precocity  was  really  remarka.ble,  though  his  morbid 
vanity .  may  have  somewhat  exaggerated  the  truth.  His 


xxiv  INTRODUCTION 

boyish  pastorals,  indeed,  are  as  mawkish,  incongruous,  and 

insincere  as  the  rest  of  their  kind.  His  spirited  version  of 
a  book  from  Statins'  Latin  epic,  if  done  in  his  'teens,  was 
doubtless  pruned  by  his  matnrer  hand.  Bnt  as  early  as 
1711  the  Essay  on  Criticism  shows  a  wide  reader,  crisp, 
clear,  sometimes  witty  in  his  easy  turn  of  phrase,  fairly 
independent  in  his  literary  judgments,  and  already  full 
master  of  the  couplet  which  Dryden  had  made  the  normal 
form  for  nearly  all  poetry. 

The  work  which  reveals  most  ingenuity,  taste,  and  real  wit, 
perhaps,  among  all  Pope's  poems,  and  which  at  once  raised 
him  to  a  leading  place  among  the  rhymers  of  the  day,  is  the 
Rape  of  the  Lock,  first  printed  in  1712,  recast  with  the  impor- 
tant addition  of  the  superhuman  "machinery,"  the  Sylphs, 
in  1714.  This  is  a  mock-heroic,  a  miniature  epic  poem, 
telling  how  a  noble  lord  cut  from  a  reigning  belle's  head  a 
lock  of  hai-r,  with  all  the  strife  and  direful  woes  thereby 
entailed.  To  a  healthy-minded  country -bred  boy  this  poem 
would  be  absolutely  meaningless.  It  is  in  part  a  mild  satire 
on  the  triviality  of  polite  social  life.  Some  portions  are 
cleverly  composed  in  parody  of  the  real  epic  style.  It  is 
without  doubt  an  exquisite  work  of  art,  and  many  passages 
are  really  imaginative,  still  oftener  witty,  though  never 
deeply  in  earnest.  But  at  any  point  in  our  enjoyment  of  it, 
suppose  we  are  recalled  to  Milton's  demand,  that  all  true 
poetry  must  be  "simple,  sensuous,  passionate."  It  would  be 
like  an  announcement  of  a  prayer-meeting  in  the  midst  of 
Vanity  Fair. 

Pope's  Homer 

It  was  this  new  and  youthful  rhymer,  the  favorite  poet  of 
the  "  smart  set,"  of  the  court  and  of  society,  who  announced, 
at  the  age  of  twenty-five,  that  he  would  write  and  publish  a 
translation  of  Homer's  Iliad.  He  was  already  the  friend 
of  Swift  the  Tory  as  well  as  of  Addison  the  Whig,  and 


INTRODUCTION  xxv 

managed  for  a  time  to  enjoy  the  aid  of  the  two  literary 
camps  —  or  rather  the  two  coffee-house  coteries.  His  Cath- 
olic tenets  were  probably  never  very  strenuously  held,  the 
influence  of  Bolingbroke  tending  rather  to  carry  him  outside 
of  any  distinctively  Christian  theology.  All  the  breezes 
filled  Pope's  sails.  Nevertheless,  the  instant  mercantile 
success  is  astonishing. 

The  publisher,  Bernard  Lintot,  paid  Pope  £1200  for  the 
translation,  besides  furnishing  gratis  the  copies  for  Pope's 
original  subscribers,  654  in  number,  for  which  at  least  six 
guineas  each  were  paid.  Some  noble  patrons  were  particu- 
larly generous.-  Altogether,  nearly  $30,000  was  assured  to 
the  translator  before  the  first  volume  appeared.  The  six 
parts  were  published  between  1715  and  1720,  and  were 
received  with  general  applause. 

Pope's  leadership  in  English  letters  was  hardly  questioned 
during  the  rest  of  his  life.  A  few  years  later  a  version 
of  the  Odyssey,  less  conscientiously  performed  with  two 
collaborators,  netted  the  poet  about  $  18,000.  His  lifelong 
thrift  thereafter  was  peculiarly  unpoetical.  He  lived  inde- 
pendently in  the  famous  little  villa  at  Twickenham  on  the 
Thames,  knowing  nothing  of  the  poverty  and  mortifications 
that  embittered  the  life  of  Johnson,  Goldsmith,  and  so  many 
authors  of  the  century.  He  reached  his  goal,  for  he  had 
not  aimed  at  the  stars. 

Bentley,  the  great  classical  scholar  of  Pope's  age,  said, 
"  A  pretty  poem,  Mr.  Pope :  but  you  mustn't  call  it  Homer ;  " 
and  every  Hellenist  since  that  day  has  been  disposed  to 
echo  at  least  the  latter  clause.  The  translation  is  an  emi- 
nently readable  performance.  Its  vigor  never  flags,  its 
clearness  is  rarely  clouded.  Yet  the  total  effect  is  astonish- 
ingly different  from  that  produced  by  the  Iliad,  in  the 
original  or  in  a  simple  translation.  Many  of  the  differences 
to  which  attention  will  be  called  may  seem  trivial  in  them- 
selves. Their  effect  is  cumulative.  But  the  truth  is,  Pope 


xxvi  INTRODUCTION 

had  no  sympathy  for  the  rude,  natural,  forceful  phase  of 
life  revealed  by  Homer.  Doubtless  Homeric  simplicity 
often  shocked  his  sense  of  fitness.  He  substitutes,  so  far  as 
he  may,  the  camps,  courts,  and  drawing-rooms  of  the  eigh- 
teenth century. 

The  best  single  line  to  illustrate  all  this  occurs  in  the 
Odyssey,  where  a  very  lovable,  rather  shy  young  girl,  who 
chances  to  be  a  king's  daughter,  wants  to  go  with  several 
companions  on  a  little  picnic  at  the  beach.  She  begins :  — 

"Papa  dear,  would  you  get  ready  for  me  the  wagon,  the  high  one  ?  " 
No  more  but  so.  In  Mr.  Pope's  elevating  style  this  becomes : 

' '  Would  my  dread  sire  his  ear  regardful  deign, 
And  may  his  child  the  royal  car  obtain  ?  " 

The  severest  and  justest  criticism  ever  made  on  Pope  is, 
that  Homer's  eye  is  always  fixed  on  the  things  that  he  sees 
and  makes  us  see ;  his  translator  is  intent  only  on  the  turn 
of  his  phrase. 

None  the  less,  Mr.  Pope's  Homer  will  always  remain  one 
of  the  chief  monuments  of  terse,  polished,  clear,  vigorous 
eighteenth-century  English.  Certain  minor  affectations,  e.g. 
the  constant  use  of  "dome"  for  house  or  palace,  "  train"  for 
army,  "main"  or  "deep"  for  sea,  "bed"  for  marriage, 
"  fair  "  for  woman,  whether  due  to  the  author  or  his  time, 
should  not  vitally  affect  our  enjoyment  of  a  well-told  story  — 
a  story  which  in  its  main  outline  is  of  course  still  Homeric. 

The  substitution  of  Jupiter  for  Zeus,  Venus  for  Aphrodite, 
and  in  general  of  the  Eoman  equivalents  for  Greek  names, 
is  indeed  no  longer  to  be  imitated  or  approved,  but  was 
almost  universal  even  down  to  our  own  day.  It  is  perhaps 
the  one  serious  error  of  judgment  in  Bryant's  Homer.  Still, 
no  one  is  consistent.  We  all  say  Ajax,  not  Aias.  Few  will 
drop  Ulysses  for  Odysseus.  The  whole  question  is  a 
debatable  one,  and  not  in  itself  of  the  first  importance. 


INTRODUCTION  XXvii 

The  eternal  beauty  and  vitality  of  Hellenic  myths  are  not 
dependent  on  mere  names. 

Pope's  metre  was  of  course  the  ten-syllabled  line  in  rhymed 
couplets.  As  used  by  Chaucer  with  abundant  female  rhymes, 
or  by  Keats  with  frequent  "  run-over  "  lines,  concealing,  or 
at  least  lightening,  the  else  too  emphatic  rhyme,  this  move- 
ment is  still  agreeable  —  albeit,  even  so,  somewhat  monoto- 
nous—  to  our  ears.  Pope  permits  no  variation  from  the 
exact  tale  of  syllables.  His  finished,  antithetical  rhetoric 
almost  invariably  completes  its  curve  within  the  couplet. 
The  rhyme  comes  as  inevitable  and  almost  as  emphatic  as 
the  clash  of  cymbals.  Accustomed  as  we  are  to  lighter,' 
daintier,  more  varied  rhythmic  and  rhyming  effects,  or,  on 
the  other  hand,  to  the  larger  movement  of  Miltonic  and 
Shakespearean  blank  verse,  it  is  hard  indeed  for  us  to  put 
ourselves  in  the  attitude  of  Pope's  first  readers,  to  whom 
this  was  the  one  form  expected  and  desired. 

The  twenty  syllables  of  the  couplet  often  afford  more  than 
abundant  space  to  render  an  Homeric  hexameter,  and  some 
passages  are  unmistakably  "padded"  with  merely  orna- 
mental epithets.  Oftener,  however,  Popers  temptation  is 
to  give  his  sentence  a  smarter  rhetorical  tone,  a  more 
epigrammatic  emphasis  than  his  original  justified.  We 
have  good  reason  to  doubt  if  Pope  actually  read  Homer  at 
all,  except  in  free  French  versions  and  in  Chapman  and  his 
other  English  predecessors.  This,  at  least,  is  the  judgment 
of  Pope's  editor,  Wake  field,  a  classical  scholar  and  a  friendly 
critic. 

The  original  edition  of  1715-1720  —  with  its  sumptuous 
copperplate  engravings,  a  complete  list  of  royal,  noble,  and 
gentle  subscribers,  the  learned  essay  on  Homer  contributed 
by  the  scholarly  poet  Parnell,  and  the  copious  notes  largely 
translated  by  some  other  scholar  from  the  verbose  old  Greek 
bishop  Eustathius,  —  makes  a  rather  stately  set  of  six  vol- 
umes. This  work  is  by  no  means  so  rare,  even  on  this  side 


XXviii  INTRODUCTION 

the  ocean,  as  might  be  expected.  Smaller  editions  appeared 
in  Pope's  lifetime,  partly  piratical,  others  authorized.  The 
poet's  literary  executor  was  the  pedantic  and  conceited 
Warburton.  His  edition  of  1750  appears  to  have  been 
accepted  as  a  sort  of  vulgate  text  ever  since.  Pope's  trans- 
lation and  preface,  minus  Parnell's  essay  on  Homer  and 
most  of  the  notes,  can  now  be  obtained  most  conveniently  in 
the  Bohn  Library  edition. 

An  exact  reprint  from  the  1715  text  would  be  ill  suited 
to  a  school  edition.  All  substantives  are  there  capitalized 
as  now  in  German,  proper  nouns  are  set  in  Italic  type. 
Such  orthography  as  "  smoak,"  "  publick,"  "  chearful," 
"  rowze,"  "  controul,"  "  battel,"  "  pyle,"  "  prophan'd," 
"aetherial,"  "aethereal."  "etherial,"  would  be  a  dangerous 
example  to  our  pupils.  The  present  text  ventures  some 
closer  approaches  to  Pope's  spelling.  Thus  "  oft'/7  "  yon'," 
are  interesting  indications  that  the  words  were  regarded  as 
recent  contractions  for  "  often,"  "  yonder."  "  Crost,"  "  tost," 
"  opprest,"  "  curst,"  are  exactly  in  line  with  present  tenden- 
cies. "Con'd,"  rather  than  "  conn'd,"  "prefer'd,"  "  rob'd," 
seem  logically  right,  since  it  is  only  the  presence  of  the  "  e  " 
that  made  necessary  the  doubling  of  the  consonant  in  order 
to  keep  the  preceding  vowel  short  in  sound.  One  special 
problem  as  to  the  text  has  been  mentioned  in  the  preface. 

Note  on  Supplementary  Reading 

Every  student  should  if  possible  have  in  hand  the  Lang, 
Leaf,  and  Myers  translation  of  the  complete  Iliad  into  some- 
what archaic  English  prose,  now  issued  by  Macmillan  in  inex- 
pensive form.  The  Bohn  Library  contains  the  complete 
Pope's  Iliad,  in  modernized  spelling,  with  all  of  Flaxman's 
illustrations.  The  best  small  scholarly  book  about  Homer  is 
J ebb's  Introduction  (Ginn).  Lawton's  Art  and  Ilumcon'ty  hi 
Homer  contains  many  experiments  in  hexameter  translation, 


INTRODUCTION  xxix 

with  literary  criticism  of  Homer.  This  book  was  originally 
a  course  of  University  Extension  lectures.  Leaf's  Compan- 
ion to  Homer  is  an  exhaustive  general  commentary  on 
the  English  text  This  book,  with  Lang's  Homer  and 
the  Epic,  give  with  excellent  temper  the  two  sides  of 
"the  Homeric  question."  Lang  believes  in  one  supreme 
Homeric  poet :  Leaf  is  sure  he  can  trace  the  gradual  growth 
of  the  poems  under  successive  hands.  The  archaeological 
discoveries  of  Schliemann  and  others  are  now  best  discussed 
in  The  Mycenwan  Age,  by  Tsountas  and  Manatt.  Chap- 
man's Iliad  (in  Knickerbocker  Nuggets),  Bryant's  (Houghton), 
and  Worsley's  (accessible  only  in  an  expensive  English  edi- 
tion), will  perhaps  suffice  for  any  ordinary  school  library. 
Besides  Cowper's  and  Lord  Derby's  in  blank  verse,  there 
are  spirited  metrical  versions,  little  known  in  America,  by 
Way,  and  by  Professor  Blackie,  the  beloved  and  eccentric 
Scotch  scholar. 

As  to  Pope  himself,  Thackeray's  brief  sketch  in  his 
English  Humorists  is  a  most  eulogistic  one,  in  the  writer's 
happiest  manner.  For  the  life  of  the  time,  Henry 
Esmond  is  almost  as  indispensable  as  the  Spectator  itself. 
Leslie  Stephen  wrote  the  brief  biography  in  the  English 
Men  of  Letters  series,  and  also  the  article  on  Pope  in  his 
great  Dictionary  of  English  Biography  The  strange  liter- 
ary intrigues,  forgeries,  and  quarrels  of  Pope's  life  are 
patiently  analyzed  in  the  exhaustive  Life  and  Works  by 
W.  J.  Courthope.  The  biography  of  Pope  forms  Vol.  V.  of 
this  monumental  publication,  which,  like  Nestor,  has  out- 
lasted two  editorial  generations,  having  been  begun  by 
Croker  and  continued  by  Elwin. 


HOMER. 
After  the  bust  in  Sans-Souci  Palace,  Potsdam. 


THE 

ILIAD 

OF 

HOMER. 

Translated  by  Mr.  POPE. 


Te  sequor,  0  Graix  gentis  Decus  !  inque  tuis  nunc 
Fixa  pedum  pono  pressis  vestigia  signis : 
Non  ita  certandi  cupidus,  quarnpropter  Amorern, 
Quod  Te  imitari  aveo. 

—  LUCKET. 


LONDON : 

Printed  by  W.  BOWYEK,  for  BEKNAKD  LINTOTT,  between 
the  Temple-Gates,  1715. 


MAP      ILLUSTRATING      HOMER'S     ILIAD 


THE    ILIAD 


BOOK  I 

THE  ARGUMENT 

THE    CONTENTION   OF    ACHILLES    AND    AGAMEMNON 

IN  the  war  of  Troy,  the  Greeks,  having  sacked  some  of  the  neigh- 
bouring towns,  and  taken  from  thence  two  beautiful  captives,  Chry- 
seis  and  Briseis,  allotted  the  first  to  Agamemnon,  and  the  last  to 
Achilles.  Chryses,  the  father  of  Chryseis,  and  priest  of  Apollo, 
comes  to  the  Grecian  camp  to  ransom  her ;  with  which  the  action 
of  the  poem  opens,  in  the  tenth  year  of  the  siege.  The  priest  being 
refused  and  insolently  dismissed  by  Agamemnon,  entreats  for  ven- 
geance from  his  god,  who  inflicts  a  pestilence  on  the  Greeks.  Achil- 
les calls  a  council,  and  encourages  Calchas  to  declare  the  cause  of 
it,  who  attributes  it  to  the  refusal  of  Chryseis.  The  king,  being 
obliged  to  send  back  his  captive,  enters  into  a  furious  contest  with 
Achilles,  which  Nestor  pacifies ;  however,  as  he  had  the  absolute 
command  of  the  army,  he  seizes  on  Briseis  in  revenge.  Achilles 
in  discontent  withdraws  himself  and  his  forces  from  the  rest  of 
the  Greeks ;  and  complaining  to  Thetis,  she  supplicates  Jupiter  to 
render  them  sensible  of  the  wrong  done  to  her  son,  by  giving  vic- 
tory to  the  Trojans.  Jupiter,  granting  her  suit,  incenses  Juno, 
between  whom  the  debate  runs  high,  till  they  are  reconciled  by 
the  address  of  Vulcan. 

The  time  of  two-and-twenty  days  is  taken  up  in  this  book;  nine 
during  the  plague,  one  in  the  council  and  quarrel  of  the  princes, 
and  twelve  for  Jupiter's  stay  with  the  Ethiopians,  at  whose  return 
Thetis  prefers  her  petition.  The  scene  lies  in  the  Grecian  camp, 
then  changes Jto  Chrysa,  and  lastly  to  Olympus- 


4  THE   ILIAD 

BOOK   II 

THE  TRIAL  OF  THE  ARMY  AND  CATALOGUE  OF  THE  FORCES 

Jupiter,  in  pursuance  of  the  request  of  Thetis,  sends  a  deceitful 
vision  to  Agamemnon,  persuading  him  to  lead  the  army  to  battle, 
in  order  to  make  the  Greeks  sensible  of  their  want  of  Achilles. 
The  general,  who  is  deluded  with  the  hopes  of  taking  Troy  with- 
out his  assistance,  but  fears  the  army  was  discouraged  by  his 
absence  and  the  late  plague,  as  well  as  by  length  of  time,  contrives 
to  make  trial  of  their  disposition  by  a  stratagem.  He  first  com- 
municates his  design  to  the  princes  in  council,  that  he  would  pro- 
pose a  return  to  the  soldiers,  and  that  they  should  put  a  stop  to 
them  if  the  proposal  was  embraced.  Then  he  assembles  the  whole 
host,  and  upon  moving  for  a  return  to  Greece,  they  unanimously 
agree  to  it,  and  run  to  prepare  the  ships.  They  are  detained  by 
the  management  of  Ulysses,  who  chastises  the  insolence  of  Ther- 
sites.  The  assembly  is  recalled,  several  speeches  made  on  the 
occasion,  and  at  length  the  advice  of  Nestor  followed,  which  was 
to  make  a  general  muster  of  the  troops,  and  to  divide  them  into 
their  several  nations,  before  they  proceeded  to  battle.  This  gives 
occasion  to  the  poet  to  enumerate  all  the  forces  of  the  Greeks  and 
Trojans  in  a  large  catalogue. 

The  time  employed  in  this  book  consists  not  entirely  of  one  day. 
The  scene  lies  in  the  Grecian  camp  and  upon  the  sea-shore  ;  toward 
the  end  it  removes  to  Troy. 

BOOK   III 

THE    DUEL    OF    MENELAUS    AND    PARIS 

The  armies  being  ready  to  engage,  a  single  combat  is  agreed 
upon  between  Menelaiis  and  Paris  (by  the  intervention  of  Hector) 
for  the  determination  of  wrar.  Iris  is  sent  to  call  Helen  to  behold 
the  fight.  She  leads  her  to  the  walls  of  Troy,  where  Priam  sat 
with  his  counsellors,  observing  the  Grecian  leaders  on  the  plain 
below,  to  whom  Helen  gives  an  account  of  the  chief  of  them.  The 
kings  on  either  part  take  the  solemn  oath  for  the  conditions  of 
the  combat.  The  duel  ensues,  wherein  Paris,  being  overcome,  is 


ARGUMENTS  5 

snatched  away  in  a  cloud  by  Venus,  and  transported  to  his  apart- 
ment. She  t>h en  calls  Helen  from  the  walls,  and  brings  the  lovers 
together.  Agamemnon,  on  the  part  of  the  Grecians,  demands  the 
restoration  of  Helen,  and  the  performance  of  the  articles. 

The  three-and-twentieth  day  still  continues  throughout  this  book. 
The  scene  is  sometimes  in  the  field  before  Troy,  and  sometimes  in 
Troy  itself. 

BOOK   IV 

THE  BREACH  OF  THE  TRUCE  AND  THE  FIRST  BATTLE 

The  gods  deliberate  in  council  concerning  the  Trojan  war :  they 
agree  upon  the  continuation  of  it,  and  Jupiter  sends  down  Minerva 
to  break  the  truce.  She  persuades  Panclariis  to  aim  an  arrow  at 
Menelaiis,  who  is  wounded,  but  cured  by  Machaon.  In  the  mean- 
time some  of  the  Trojan  troops  attack  the  Greeks.  Agamemnon 
is  distinguished  in  all  the  parts  of  a  good  general ;  he  reviews  the 
troops,  and  exhorts  the  leaders,  some  by  praises,  and  others  by 
reproofs.  Nestor  is  particularly  celebrated  for  his  military  disci- 
pline. The  battle  joins,  and  great  numbers  are  slain  on  both  sides. 

The  same  day  continues  through  this,  as  through  the  last  book ; 
as  it  does  also  through  the  two  following,  and  almost  to  the  end  of 
the  seventh  book.  The  scene  is  wholly  in  the  field  before  Troy. 

BOOK  V 

THE    ACTS    OF    DIOMED 

Diomed,  assisted  by  Pallas,  performs  wonders  in  this  day's  battle. 
Pandarus  wounds  him  with  an  arrow,  but  the  goddess  cures  him, 
enables  him  to  discern  gods  from  mortals,  and  prohibits  him  from 
contending  with  any  of  the  former,  excepting  Venus.  ^Eneas  joins 
Pandarus  to  oppose  him,  Pandarus  is  killed,  and  ^Eneas  in  great 
danger  but  for  the  assistance  of  Venus,  who,  as  she  is  removing 
her  son  from  the  fight,  is  wounded  on  the  hand  by  Diomed.  Apollo 
seconds  her  in  his  rescue,  and  at  length  carries  oif  ^Eneas  to  Troy, 
where  he  is  healed  in. the  temple  of  Pergamus.  Mars  rallies  the 
Trojans,  and  assists  Hector  to  make  a  stand.  In  the  meantime 


6  THE    ILIAD 

JSneas  is  restored  to  the  field,  and  they  overthrow  several  of  the 
Greeks;  among  the  rest  Tlepolemus  is  slain  by  Sarpedou.  Juno 
and  Minerva  descend  to  resist  Mars  ;  the  latter  incites  Diomed  to 
go  against  that  god;  he  wounds  him,  and  sends  him  groaning  to 
heaven. 

The  first  battle  continues  through  this  book.  The  scene  is  the 
same  as  in  the  former. 

BOOK   VI 

THE    EPISODES    OF    GLAUCUS    AND    DIOMED,    AND    OF     HECTOR    AND 
.       .  ANDROMACHE 

The  gods  having  left  the  field,  the  Grecians  prevail.  Helenus, 
the  chief  augur  of  Troy,  commands  Hector  to  return  to  the  city,  in 
order  to  appoint  a  solemn  procession  of  the  queen  and  the  Trojan 
matrons  to  the  temple  of  Minerva,  to  entreat  her  to  remove  Diomed 
from  the  fight.  The  battle  relaxing  during  the  absence  of  Hector, 
Glaucus  and  Diomed  have  an  interview  between  the  two  armies; 
where,  coming  to  the  knowledge  of  the  friendship  and  hospitality 
past  between  their  ancestors,  they  make  exchange  of  their  arms. 
Hector,  having  performed  the  orders  of  Helenus,  prevails  upon 
Paris  to  return  to  the  battle,  and,  taking  a  tender  leave  of  his  wife 
Andromache,  hastens  again  to  the  field. 

The  scene  is  first  in  the  field  of  battle,  between  the  rivers  Simois 
and  Scamander,  and  then  changes  to  Troy. 

BOOK  VII 

THE    SINGLE    COMBAT    OF    HECTOR    AND    AJAX 

The  battle  renewing  with  double  ardour  upon  the  return  of 
Hector,  Minerva  is  under  apprehensions  for  the  Greeks.  Apollo, 
seeing  her  descend  from  Olympus,  joins  her  near  the  Scsean  gate. 
They  agree  to  put  off  the  general  engagement  for  that  day,  and 
incite  Hector  to  challenge  the  Greeks  to  a  single  combat.  Nine  of 
the  princes  accepting  the  challenge,  the  lot  is  cast,  and  falls  upon 
Ajax.  These  heroes,  after  several  attacks,  are  parted  by  the  night. 
The  Trojans  calling  a  council,  Antenor  proposes  the  delivery  of 


ARGUMENTS  7 

Helen  to  the  Greeks,  to  which  Paris  will  not  consent,  but  offers  to 
restore  them  her  riches.  Priam  sends  a  herald  to  make  this  offer, 
and  to  demand  a  truce  for  burningthe  <^d,  the  last  of  which  only 
is  agreed  to  by  Agamemnon.  Wj^Bthe  funerals  are  performed, 
the  Greeks,  pursuant  to  the  adj^^^P  Nestor,  erect  a  fortification 
to  protect  their  fleet  and  ca.rn^H  ^Ked  with  towers,  and  defended 
by  a  ditch  and  palisades,  ^feptune  testifies  his  jealousy  at  this 
work,  but  is  pacified  by  a  premise  from  Jupiter.  Both  armies  pass 
the  night  in  feasting,  but  Jupiter  disheartens  the  Trojans  with 
thunder  and  other  signs  of  his  wrath. 

The  three-and-twentieth  day  ends  with  the  duel  of  Hector  and 
Ajax  ;  the  next  day  the  truce  is  agreed  :  another  is  taken  up  in  the 
funeral  rites  of  the  slain;  and  one  more  in  building  the  fortifi- 
cation before  the  ships;  so  that  somewhat  above  three  days  is 
employed  in  this  book.  The  scene  lies  wholly  in  the  field. 

BOOK    VIII 

THE    SECOND    BATTLE    AND     THE    DISTRESS    OF    THE    GREEKS 

Jupiter  assembles  a  council  of  the  deities,  and  threatens  them 
with  the  pains  of  Tartarus,  if  they  assist  either  side:  Minerva  only 
obtains  of  him  that  she  may  direct  the  Greeks  by  her  counsels. 
The  armies  join  battle ;  Jupiter  on  Mount  Ida  weighs  in  his  bal- 
ances the  fates  of  both,  and  affrights  the  Greeks  with  his  thunders 
and  lightnings.  Nestor  alone  continues  in  the  field  in  great  danger ; 
Diomed  relieves  him,  whose  exploits,  and  those  of  Hector,  are  excel- 
lently described.  Juno  endeavours  to  animate  Neptune  to  the 
assistance  of  the  Greeks,  but  in  vain.  The  acts  of  Teucgr,  who  is 
at  length  wounded  by  Hector  and  carried  off.  Juno  and  Minerva 
prepare  to  aid  the  Grecians,  but  are  restrained  by  Iris,  sent  from 
Jupiter.  The  night  puts  an  end  to  the  battle.  Hector  continues 
in  the  field  (the  Greeks  being  driven  to  their  fortifications  before 
the  ships),  and  gives  orders  to  keep  the  watch  all  night  in  the 
camp,  to  prevent  the  enemy  from  reimbarking  and  escaping  by 
flight.  They  kindle  fires  through  all  the  field,  and  pass  the  night 
under  arms. 

The  time  of  seven-and-twenty  days  is  employed  from  the  open- 
ing of  the  poem  to  the  end  of  this  book.  The  scene  here  (except 
of  the  celestial  machines)  lies  in  the  field  toward  the  sea-shore. 


THE    ILIAD 
BOOK   IX 

TO    ACHILLES 


Agamemnon,  after  the  lasl^ defeat,  proposes  to  the  Greeks 
to  quit  the  siege,  and  return^^^^ir  country.  Diomed  opposes 
this,  and  Nestor  seconds  him,  praising  his  wisdom  and  resolution. 
He  orders  the  guard  to  be  strengthened,  and  a  council  summoned 
to  deliberate  what  measures  are  to  be  followed  in  this  emergency. 
Agamemnon  pursues  this  advice,  and  Nestor  farther  prevails  upon 
him  to  send  ambassadors  to  Achilles,  in  order  to  move  him  to  a 
reconciliation.  Ulysses  and  Ajax  are  made  choice  of,  who  are 
accompanied  by  old  Phoenix.  They  make,  each  of  them,  very 
moving  and  pressing  speeches,  but  are  rejected  with  roughness  by 
Achilles,  who  notwithstanding  retains  Phoenix  in  his  tent.  The 
ambassadors  return  unsuccessfully  to  the  camp,  and  the  troops  be- 
take themselves  to  sleep. 

This  book,  and  the  next  following,  take  up  the  space  of  one 
night,  which  is  the  twenty-seventh  from  the  beginning  of  the 
poem.  The  scene  lies  on  the  sea-shore,  the  station  of  the  Grecian 
ships. 

BOOK   X 

THE    NIGHT    ADVENTURE    OF    DIOMED    AND    ULYSSES 

Upon  the  refusal  of  Achilles  to  return  to  the  army,  the  distress 
of  Agamemnon  is  described  in  the  most  lively  manner.     He  takes 
no  rest  that  night,  but  passes  through  the  camp,  awaking  the 
leaders,  and  contriving  all  possible  methods  for  the  public  safety. 
Menelaiis,  Nestor,  Ulysses,  and  Diomed  are  employed  in  raising 
the  rest  of  the  captains.     They  call  a  council  of  war,  and  deter- 
~mine  to  send  scouts  into  the  enemy's  camp,  to  learn  their  posture, 
J  xfthd  discover  their  intentions.     Diomed  undertakes  this  hazardous 
\y     enterprise,  and  makes  choice  of  Ulysses  for  his  companion.     In 
their  passage   they  surprise  Dolon,  whom  Hector  had  sent  on  a 
like  design  to  the  camp  of  the  Grecians.      From  him  they  are 
informed  of  the  situation  of  the  Trojan  and  auxiliary  forces,  and 
particularly  of  Rhesus  and  the  Thracians  who  were  lately  arrived. 
They  pass  on  with  success,  kill  Rhesus  with  several  of  his  officers, 


ARGUMENTS  9 

find  seize  the  famous  horses  of  that  prince,  with  which  they  return 
in  triumph  to  the  camp.    ». 

The  same  night  continues ;  the  scene  lies  in  the  two  camps. 

BOOK   XI 

THE    THIKD    BATTLE    AND    THE    ACTS    OF    AGAMEMNON 

Agamemnon,  having  armed  himself,  leads  the  Grecians  to  bat- 
tle ;  Hector  prepares  the  Trojans  to  receive  them ;  while  Jupiter, 
Juno,  and  Minerva  give  the  signals  of  war.  Agamemnon  bears 
all  before  him ;  and  Hector  is  commanded  by  Jupiter  (who  sends 
Iris  for  that  purpose)  to  decline  the  engagement,  till  the  king 
should  be  wounded  and  retire  from  the  field.  He  then  makes  a 
great  slaughter  of  the  enemy;  Ulysses  and  Diomed  put  a  stop  to 
him  for  a  time;  but  the  latter,  being  wounded  by  Paris,  is  obliged 
to  desert  his  companion,  who  is  encompassed  by  the  Trojans, 
wounded,  and  in  the  utmost  danger,  till  Menelaiis  and  A  jax  rescue 
him.  Hector  comes  against  Ajax,  but  that  hero  alone  opposes 
multitudes  and  rallies  the  Greeks.  In  the  meantime  Machaon,  in 
the  other  wing  of  the  army,  is  pierced  with  an  arrow  by  Paris,  and 
carried  from  the  fight  in  Nestor's  chariot.  Achilles  (who  over- 
looked the  action  from  his  ship)  sends  Patroclus  to  inquire  which 
of  the  Greeks  was  wounded  in  that  manner.  Nestor  entertains 
him  in  his  tent  with  an  account  of  the  accidents  of  the  day,  and 
a  long  recital  of  some  former  wars  which  he  had  remembered, 
tending  to  put  Patroclus  upon  persuading  Achilles  to  fight  for  his 
countrymen,  or  at  least  to  permit  him  to  do  it  clad  in  Achilles' 
armour.  Patroclus  in  his  return  meets  Eurypylus,  also  wounded, 
and  assists  him  in  that  distress. 

This  book  opens  with  the  eight-and-twentieth  day  of  the  poem ; 
and  the  same  day,  with  its  various  actions  and  adventures,  is  ex- 
tended through  the  twelfth,  thirteenth,  fourteenth,  fifteenth,  six- 
teenth, seventeenth,  and  part  of  the  eighteenth  books.  The  scene 
lies  in  the  field  near  the  monument  of  Ilus. 

BOOK   XII 

THE  BATTLE  AT  THE  GRECIAN  WALL 

The  Greeks  being  retired  into  their  intrenchments,  Hector 
attempts  to  force  them;  but  it  proving  impossible  to  pass  the 


10  THE    ILIAD 

ditch,  Polydamas  advises  to  quit  their  chariots  and  manage  the 
attack  on  foot.  The  Trojans  follow  his  counsel,  and  having  divided 
.their  army  into  five  bodies  of  foot,  begin  the  assault.  But  upon 
the  signal  of  an  eagle  with  a  serpent  in  his  talons,  which  appeared 
on  the  left  hand  of  the  Trojans,  Polydamas  endeavours  to  with- 
draw them  again.  This  Hector  opposes,  and  continues  the  attack ; 
in  which,  after  many  actions,  Sarpedon  makes  the  first  breach  in 
the  wall  :  Hector  also,  casting  a  stone  of  a  vast  size,  forces  open 
one  of  the  gates,  and  enters  at  the  head  of  his  troops,  who  victori- 
ously pursue  the  Grecians  even  to  their  ships. 


BOOK   XI I T 

THE    FOURTH    BATTLE     CONTINUED,    IN    WHICH     NEPTUNE    ASSISTS 
THE    GREEKS  :    THE    ACTS    OF    IDOMENEUS 

Neptune,  concerned  for  the  loss  of  the  Grecians,  upon  seeing 
the  fortification  forced  by  Hector  (who  had  entered  the  gate  near 
the  station  of  the  Ajaxes),  assumes  the  shape  of  Calchas,  and 
inspires  those  heroes  to  oppose  him  ;  then,  in  the  form  of  one  of 
the  generals,  encourages  the  other  Greeks,  who  had  retired  to  their 
vessels.  The  Ajaxes  form  their  troops  into  a  close  phalanx,  and 
put  a  stop  to  Hector  and  the  Trojans.  Several  deeds  of  valour  are 
performed ;  Meriones,  losing  his  spear  in  the  encounter,  repairs  to 
seek  another  at  the  tent  of  Idorneneus  ;  this  occasions  a  conversa- 
tion between  these  two  warriors,  who  return  together  to  the  battle. 
Idomeneus  signalizes  his  courage  above  the  rest ;  he  kills  Othryo- 
neus,  Asius,  and  Alcathoiis :  De'iphobus  and  ^Eneas  march  against 
him,  and  at  length  Idomeneus  retires.  Menelaiis  wounds  Helenus, 
and  kills  Pisander.  The  Trojans  are  repulsed  in  the  left  wing. 
Hector  still  keeps  his  ground  against  the  Ajaxes,  till,  being  galled 
by  the  Locrian  slingers  and  archers,  Polydamas  advises  to  call  a 
council  of  war :  Hector  approves  his  advice,  but  goes  first  to  rally 
the  Trojans ;  upbraids  Paris,  rejoins  Polydamas,  meets  Ajax  again, 
and  renews  the  attack. 

The  eight-and-twentieth  day  still  continues.  The  scene  is 
between  the  Grecian  wrall  and  the  sea-shore. 


ARGUMENTS  11 

BOOK   XIV 
JUNO  DECEIVES' JUPITER  BY  THE  GIKDLK  OF  VENUS 

Nestor,  sitting  at  the  table  with  Machaon,  is  alarmed  with  the 
increasing  clamour  of  the  war,  and  hastens  to  Agamemnon:  on 
his  way  he  meets  that  prince  with  Diomed  and  Ulysses,  whom  he 
informs  of  the  extremity  of  the  danger,  Agamemnon  proposes  to 
make  their  escape  by  night,  which  Ulysses  withstands ;  to  which 
Diomed  adds  his  advice,  that,  wounded  as/tney  were,  they  should 
go  forth  and  encourage  the  army  with  their  presence;  which 
advice  is  pursued.  Juno,  seeing  the  partiality  of  Jupiter  to  the 
Trojans,  forms  a  design  to  overreach  him;  she  sets  off  her  charms 
with  the  utmost  care,  and  (the  more  surely  to  enchant  him) 
obtains  the  magic  girdle  of  Venus.  She  then  applies  herself  to 
the  god  of  Sleep,  and  with  some  difficulty  persuades  him  to  seal 
the  eyes  of  Jupiter;  this  done,  she  goes  to  Mount  Ida,  where  the 
god,  at  first  sight,  is  ravished  with  her  beauty,  sinks  in  her 
embraces,  and  is  laid  asleep.  Neptune  takes  advantage  of  his 
slumber,  and  succours  the  Greeks;  Hector  is  struck  to  the  ground 
with  a  prodigious  stone  by  Ajax,  and  carried  off  from  the  battle : 
several  actions  succeed;  till  the  Trojans,  much  distressed,  are 
obliged  to  give  way ;  the  lesser  Ajax  signalizes  himself  in  a  par- 
ticular manner. 

BOOK   XV 

THE     FIFTH    BATTLE,    AT    THE    SHIPS  ;    AND    THE    ACTS    OF    AJAX 

Jupiter,  awaking,  sees  the  Trojans  repulsed  from  the  trenches, 
Hector  in  a  swoon,  and  Neptune  at  the  head  of  the  Greeks ;  he  is 
highly  incensed  at  the  artifice  of  Juno,  who  appeases  him  by  her 
submissions ;  she  is  then  sent  to  Iris  and  Apollo.  Juno,  repairing 
to  the  assembly  of  the  gods,  attempts  with  extraordinary  address 
to  incense  them  against  Jupiter;  in  particular  she  touches  Mars 
with  a  violent  resentment ;  he  is  ready  to  take  arms  but  is  pre- 
vented by  Minerva.  Iris  and  Apollo  obey  the  orders  of  Jupiter ; 
Iris  commands  Neptune  to  leave  the  battle,  to  which,  after  much 
reluctance  and  passion,  he  consents.  Apollo  reinspires  Hector 
with  vigour,  brings  him  back  to  the  battle,  marches  before  him 


12  THE    ILIAD 

with  his  segis,  and  turns  the  fortune  of  the  fight.  He  breaks  down 
great  part  of  the  Grecian  wall ;  the  Trojans  rush  in,  and  attempt 
to  fire  the  first  line  of  the  fleet,  but  are  yet  repelled  by  the  greater 
Ajax  with  a  prodigious  slaughter. 

BOOK  XVI 

THE    SIXTH    BATTLE  ;    THE    ACTS    AND    DEATH    OF    PATROCLUS 

Patroclus  (in  pursuance  of  the  request  of  Nestor  in  the  eleventh 
book)  entreats  Achilles  to  suffer  him  to  go  to  the  assistance  of  the 
Greeks  with  Achilles'  troops  and  armour.  He  agrees  to  it,  but  at 
the  same  time  charges  him  to  content  himself  with  rescuing  the 
fleet,  without  farther  pursuit  of  the  enemy.  The  armour,  horses, 
soldiers,  and  officers  of  Achilles  are  described.  Achilles  offers  a 
libation  for  the  success  of  his  friend,  after  which  Patroclus  leads 
the  Myrmidons  to  battle.  The  Trojans,  at  the  sight  of  Patroclus 
in  Achilles'  armour,  taking  him  for  that  hero,  are  cast  into  the 
utmost  consternation  :  he  beats  them  off  from  the  vessels,  Hector 
himself  flies,  Sarpedon  is  killed,  though  Jupiter  was  averse  to  his 
fate.  Several  other  particulars  of  the  battle  are  described,  in  the 
heat  of  which  Patroclus,  neglecting  the  orders  of  Achilles,  pur- 
sues the  foe  to  the  walls  of  Troy,  where  Apollo  repulses  and  dis- 
arms him.  Euphorbus  wounds  him,  and  Hector  kills  him;  which 
concludes  the  book. 

T:  BOOK   XVII 

THE    SEVENTH    BATTLE,  FOR  THE  BODY  OF    PATROCLUS  J    THE  ACTS 
OF    MENELAUS 

Menelaiis,  upon  the  death  of  Patroclus,  defends  his  body  from 
the  enemy  :  Euphorbus,  who  attempts  it,  is  slain.  Hector  advanc- 
ing, Menelaiis  retires ;  but  soon  returns  with  Ajax,  and  drives  him 
off.  This  Glaucus  objects  to  Hector  as  a  flight,  who  thereupon 
puts  on  the  armour  he  had  won  from  Patroclus,  and  renews  the 
battle.  The  Greeks  give  way,  till  Ajax  rallies  them :  JEneas 
sustains  the  Trojans.  2Eneas  and  Hector  attempt  the  chariot  of 
Achilles,  which  is  borne  off  by  Automedon.  The  horses  of  Achilles 


ARGUMENTS  13 

deplore  the  loss  of  Patroclus  :  Jupiter  covers  his  body  with  a  thick 
darkness  :  the  noble  prayer  of  Ajax  on  that  occasion.  Menelaiis 
sends  Antilochus  to  Achilles,  with  the  news  of  Patroclus'  death, 
then  returns  to  the  fight,  where,  though  attacked  with  the  utmost 
fury,  he  and  Meriones,  assisted  by  the  Ajaxes,  bear  off  the  body  to 
the  ships. 

The  time  is  the  evening  of  the  eight-and-twentieth  day.     The 
scene  lies  in  the  fields  before  Troy. 


BOOK   XVIII 

THE     GRIEF     OF     ACHILLES,     AND      NEW     ARMOUR     MADE      HIM     BY 

VULCAN 

The  news  of  the  death  of  Patroclus  is  brought  to  Achilles  by 
Antilochus.  Thetis,  hearing  his  lamentations,  comes  with  all  her 
sea-nymphs  to  comfort  him.  The  speeches  of  the  mother  and  son 
on  this  occasion.  Iris  appears  to  Achilles  by  the  command  of 
Juno,  and  orders  him  to  show  himself  at  the  head  of  the  intrench- 
ments.  The  sight  of  him  turns  the  fortune  of  the  day,  and  the 
body  of  Patroclus  is  carried  off  by  the  Greeks.  The  Trojans  call 
a  council,  where  Hector  and  Polydainas  disagree  in  their  opinions ; 
but  the  advice  of  the  former  prevails,  to  remain  encamped  in  the 
field.  The  grief  of  Achilles  over  the  body  of  Patroclus. 

Thetis  goes  to  the  palace  of  Vulcan,  to  obtain  new  arms  for  her 
son.  The  description  of  the  wonderful  works  of  Vulcan  ;  and, 
lastly,  that  noble  one  of  the  shield  of  Achilles. 

The  latter  part  of  the  nine-and-twentieth  day,  and  the  night 
ensuing,  take  up  this  book.  The  scene  is  at  Achilles'  tent  on  the 
sea-shore,  from  whence  it  changes  to  the  palace  of  Vulcan. 


BOOK   XIX 

THE    RECONCILIATION   OF    ACHILLES    AND    AGAMEMNON 

Thetis  brings  to  her  son  the  armour  made  by  Vulcan.  She 
preserves  the  body  of  his  friend  from  corruption,  and  commands 
him  to  assemble  the  army,  to  declare  his  resentment  at  an  end. 


14  THE   ILIAD 

Agamemnon  and  Achilles  are  solemnly  reconciled :  the  speeches, 
presents,  and  ceremonies  on  that  occasion.  Achilles  is  with  great 
difficulty  persuaded  to  refrain  from  the  battle  till  the  troops  have 
refreshed  themselves  by  the  advice  of  Ulysses.  The  presents  are 
conveyed  to  the  tent  of  Achilles,  where  Briseis  laments  over  the 
body  of  Patroclus.  The  hero  obstinately  refuses  all  repast,  and 
gives  himself  up  to  lamentations  for  his  friend.  Minerva  descends 
to  strengthen  him  by  the  order  of  Jupiter.  He  arms  for  the  fight ; 
his  appearance  described.  He  addresses  himself  to  his  horses, 
and  reproaches  them  with  the  death  of  Patroclus.  One  of  them  is 
miraculously  endued  with  voice,  and  inspired  to  prophesy  his  fate; 
but  the  hero,  not  astonished  by  that  prodigy,  rushes  with  fury  to 
the  combat. 

The  thirtieth  day.     The  scene  is  on  the  sea-shore. 

BOOK  XX 

THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  GODS  AND  THE  ACTS  OF  ACHILLES 

Jupifer,  upon  Achilles'  return  to  the  battle,  calls  a  council  of  the 
gods,  and  permits  them  to  assist  either  party.  The  terrors  of  the 
combat  described  when  the  deities  are  engaged.  Apollo  encourages 
jEneas  to  meet  Achilles.  After  a  long  conversation,  these  two 
heroes  encounter ;  but  ^Eneas  is  preserved  by  the  assistance  of 
Neptune.  Achilles  falls  upon  the  rest  of  the  Trojans,  and  is  upon 
the  point  of  killing  Hector,  but  Apollo  conveys  him  away  in  a 
cloud.  Achilles  pursues  the  Trojans  with  a  great  slaughter. 

The  same  day  continues.     The  scene  is  in  the  field  before  Troy. 

BOOK   XXI 

THE    BATTLE    IN    THE    RIVER    SCAMANDER 

The  Trojans  fly  before  Achilles,  some  toward  the  town,  others  to 
the  river  Scainander ;  he  falls  upon  the  latter  with  great  slaughter, 
takes  twelve  captives  alive,  to  sacrifice  to  the  shade  of  Patroclus  ; 
and  kills  Lycaon  and  Asteroparus.  Scamander  attacks  him  with 
all  his  waves ;  Neptune  and  Pallas  assist  the  hero  ;  Sirnois  joins 
Scamander;  at  length  Vulcan,  by  the  instigation  of  Juno,  almost 


ARGUMENTS  15 

dries  up  the  river.  This  combat  ended,  the  other  gods  engage 
each  other.  Meanwhile  Achilles  continues  the  slaughter,  and 
drives  the  rest  into  Troy :  Ageiior  only  makes  a  stand,  and  is  con- 
veyed away  in  a  cloud  by  Apollo,  who  (to  delude  Achilles)  takes 
upon  him  Agenor's  shape,  and  while  he  pursues  him  in  that  dis- 
guise, gives  the  Trojan  an  opportunity  of  retiring  into  their  city. 
The  same  day  continues.  The  scene  is  on  the  banks  and  in  the 
stream  of  Scamander. 

BOOK  XXII 

THE    DEATH    OF    HECTOR 

The  Trojans  being  safe  within  the  walls,  Hector  only  stays  to 
oppose  Achilles.  Priam  is  struck  at  his  approach,  and  tries  to  per- 
suade his  son  to  re-enter  the  town.  Hecuba  joins  her  entreaties, 
but  in  vain.  Hector  consults  within  himself  what  measures  to 
take ;  but,  at  the  advance  of  Achilles,  his  resolution  fails  him,  and 
he  flies  :  Achilles  pursues  him  thrice  round  the  walls  of  Troy.  The 
gods  debate  concerning  the  fate  of  Hector;  at  length  Minerva 
descends  to  the  aid  of  Achilles.  She  deludes  Hector  in  the  shape 
of  Deiphobus ;  he  stands  the  combat,  and  is  slain.  Achilles  drags 
the  dead  body  at  his  chariot,  in  the  sight  of  Priam  and  Hecuba. 
Their  lamentations,  tears,  and  despair.  Their  cries  reach  the  ears 
of  Andromache,  who,  ignorant  of  this,  was  retired  into  the  inner 
part  of  the  palace ;  she  mounts  np  to  the  walls,  and  beholds  lier 
dead  husband.  She  swoons  at  the  spectacle.  Her  excess  of  grief 
and  lamentation. 

The  thirtieth  day  still  continues.  The  scene  lies  under  the  walls, 
and  on  the  battlements  of  Troy. 

BOGK  XXIII 

FUNERAL    GAMES    IN    HONOUR    OF    PATROCLUS 

Achilles  and  the  Myrmidons  do  honour  to  the  body  of  Patro- 

clus.     After  the  funeral  feast  he  retires  to  the  sea-shore,  where, 

.  falling  asleep,  the  ghost  of  his  friend  appears  to  him,  and  demands 

the  rites  of  burial;  the  next  morning  the  soldiers  are  sent  with 

mules  and  wagons  to  fetch  wood  for  the  pyre.     The  funeral  pro- 


16  THE   ILIAD 

cession,  and  the  offering  their  hair  to  the  dead.  Achilles  sacrifices 
several  animals,  and  lastly  twelve  Trojan  captives,  at  the  pile ; 
then  sets  fire  to  it.  He  pays  libations  to  the  winds,  which  (at  the 
instance  of  Iris)  rise,  and  raise  the  flame.  When  the  pile  has 
burned  all  night,  they  gather  the  bones,  place  them  in  an  urn  of 
gold,  and  raise  the  tomb.  Achilles  institutes  the  funeral  games  : 
the  chariot-race,  the  fight  of  the  csestus,  the  wrestling,  the  foot-race, 
the  single  combat,  the  discus,  the  shooting  with  arrows,  the  dart- 
ing the  javelin  :  the  various  descriptions  of  which,  and  the  various 
success  of  the  several  antagonists,  make  the  greatest  part  of  the  book. 
In  this  book  ends  the  thirtieth  day:  the  night  following,  the 
ghost  of  Patroclus  appears  to  Achilles  :  the  one-and-thirtieth  day  is 
employed  in  felling  the  timber  for  the  pile;  the  two-and- thirtieth 
in  burning  it;  and  the  three-and-thirtieth  in  the  games.  The 
scene  is  generally  on  the  sea-shore. 

BOOK   XXIV 

THE  REDEMPTION  OF  THE  BODY  OF  HECTOR 

The  gods  deliberate  about  the  redemption  of  Hector's  body. 
Jupiter  sends  Thetis  to  Achilles  to  dispose  him  for  the  restoring  it, 
and  Iris  to  Priam,  to  encourage  him  to  go  in  person  and  treat  for 
it.  The  old  king,  notwithstanding  the  remonstrances  of  his  queen, 
makes  ready  for  the  journey,  to  which  he  is  encouraged  by  an 
omen  from  Jupiter.  He  sets  forth  in  his  chariot,  with  a  wagon 
loaded  with  presents,  under  the  charge  of  Ida3us  the  herald.  Mer- 
cury descends  in  the  shape  of  a  young  man,  and  conducts  him  to  the 
pavilion  of  Achilles.  Their  conversation  on  the  way.  Priam  finds 
Achilles  at  his  table,  casts  himself  at  his  feet,  and  begs  for  the  body 
of  his  son  :  Achilles,  moved  with  compassion,  grants  his  request, 
detains  him  one  night  in  his  tent,  and  the  next  morning  sends  him 
home  with  the  body  :  the  Trojans  run  out  to  meet  him.  The 
lamentation  of  Andromache,  Hecuba,  and  Helen,  with  the  solem- 
nities of  the  funeral. 

The  time  of  twelve  days  is  employed  in  this  book,  while  the 
body  of  Hector  lies  in  the  tent  of  Achilles,  and  as  many  more 
are  spent  in  the  truce  allowed  for  his  interment.  The  scene  is 
partly  in  Achilles'  camp,  and  partly  in  Troy. 


BOOK   I 


The  wrath  of  Peleus'  son,  the  direful  spring 

Of  all  the  Grecian  woes,  0  goddess  sing  ! 

That  wrath  which  hurl'd  to  Pluto's  gloomy  reign 

The  souls  of  mighty  chiefs  untimely  slain  : 
5  Whose  limbs,  unburied  on  the  naked  shore, 

Devouring  dogs  and  hungry  vultures  tore  : 

Since  great  Achilles  and  Atrides  strove, 

Such  was  the  sovereign  doom,  and  such  the  will  of  Jove  ! 

Declare,  0  Muse  !  in  what  ill-fated  hour 
10  Sprung  the  fierce  strife,  from  what  offended  power  ? 

Latona's  son  a  dire  contagion  spread, 

And  heap'd  the  ca$ip  with  mountains  of  the  dead  ; 

The  king  of  ^  men  his  rev'rend  priest  defied, 

And  for  the  king's  offence  the  people  died. 
ir>      For  Chryses  sought  with  costly  gifts  to  gain 

His  captive  daughter  from  the  victor's  chain. 

Suppliant  the  venerable  father  stands  ; 

Apollo's  awful  ensigns  grace  his  hands  : 

By  these  he  tegs;  and,  lowly  bending  down, 
20  Extends  the  sceptre  and  the  laurel  crown. 

He  sued  to  all,  but  chief  implor'd  for  grace 

The  brother-kings  of  Atreus'  royal  race  : 

"  Ye  kingp    ..  d  warriors  !  may  your  vows  be  crown'd, 

And  Troy's  pioud  walls  lie  Ifevel  with  the  ground  ; 
25  May  Jove  restore  you,  when  your  toils  are  o'er, 

Safe  to  the  pleasures  of  your  native  shore. 

But  oh  !  relieve  a  wretched  parent's  pain, 

And  give  Chryseis  to  these  arms  again  ; 

If  mercy  fail,  yet  let  my  presenj^smcttfi, 

§0  And  dread  avenging  Phoebus,  sofPof  Jove." 

c  17 


18  THE    ILIAD 

The  Greeks  in  shouts  their  joint  assent  declare, 
The  priest  to  rev'rence  and  release  the  fair. 
Not  so  Atrides :  he,  with  kingly  pride, 
Kepuls'd  the  sacred  sire,  and  thus  replied : 

35      "  Hence  on  thy  life,  and  fly  these  hostile  plains, 
Nor  ask,  presumptuous,  what  the  king  detains ; 
Hence,  with  thy  laurel  crown  and  golden  rod, 
Nor  trust  too  far  those  ensigns  of  thy  god. 
Mine  is  thy  daughter,  priest,  and  shall  remain ; 

40  And  prayers,  and  tears,  and  bribes,  shall  plead  in  vain ; 
Till  time  shall  rifle  every  youthful  grace, 
And  age  dismiss  her  from  my  cold  embrace ; 
In  daily  labours  of  the  loom  employ 'd, 
Or  doom'd  to  deck  the  bed  she  once  enjoy'd. 

45  Hence  then !  to  Argos  shall  the  maid  retire, 
Far  from  her  native  soil  and  weeping  .sire." 

The  trembling  priest  along  the  shore  return'd, 
And  in  the  anguish  of  a  father  mourn'd. 
Disconsolate,  nor  daring  to  complain, 

50  Silent  he  wander'd  by  the  sounding  main  : 
Till,  safe  at  distance,  to  his  god  he  prays, 
The  god  who  darts  around  the  world  his  rays :  • 

"  0  Smintlieus !  sprung  from  fair  Latona's  line, 
Thou  guardian  power  of  Cilia  the  divine, 

55  Thou  source  of  light !  whom  Tenedos  adores, 

And  whose  bright  presence  gilds  thy  Chrysa's  shores : 
If  e'er  with  wreaths  I  hung  thy  sacred  fane, 
Or  fed  the  flames  with  fat  of  oxen  slain ; 
God  of  the  silver  bow  !  thy  shafts  employ, 

(jo  Avenge  thy  servants,  and  the  Greeks  destroy." 

Thus  Chr/ses  pray'd :  the  favoring  pow^r  attends, 
And  from  Olympus'  lotty^ops  descends,      j 
Bent  was  his  bow,  the  Grecian  hearts  to  wound ; 
Fierce,  as  he  mov'd,  his  silver  shafts  resound. 

65  Breathing  revenge,  a  sudden  night  he  spread, 


BOOK   I  19 

And  gloomy  darkness  rolPd  around  liis  head. 

The  fleet  in  view,  he  twang'd  his  deadly  bow, 

And  hissing  fly  the  feather'd  fates  below. 

On  mules  and  dogs  th'  infection  first  began ; 
70  And  last  the  vengeful  arrows  fix'd  in  man. 

For  nine  long  nights  through  all  the  dusky  air 

The  fires  thick-flaming  shot  a  dismal  glare. 

But  ere  the  tenth  revolving  day  was  run, 

Inspired  by  Juno,  Thetis'  godlike  son 
75  Conven'd  to  council  all  the  Grecian  train  ; 

For  much  the  goddess  mourn'd  her  heroes  slain. 

Th'  assembly  seated,  rising  o'er  the  rest, 

Achilles  thus  the  king  of  men  addrest : 

"Why  leave  not  we  the  fatal  Trojan  shore, 
80  And  measure  back  the  seas  we  crost  before  ? 

The  plague  destroying  whom  the  sword  would  spare, 

Tis  time  to  save  the  few  remains  of  war. 

But  let  some  prophet  or  some  sacred  sage 

Explore  the  cause  of  great  Apollo's  rage ; 
85  Or  learn  the  wasteful  vengeance  to  remove 

By  mystic  dreams,  for  dreams  descend  from  Jove. 

If  broken  vows  this  heavy  curse  have  laid, 

Let  altars  smoke  and  hecatombs  be  paid. 

So  heav'n  aton'd  shall  dying  Greece  restore, 
90  And  Phoebus  dart  his  burning  shafts  no  more." 
He  said,  and  sate :  when  Calchas  thus  replied, 

Calchas  the  wise,  the  Grecian  priest  and  guide, 

That  sacred  seer,  whose  comprehensive  view 

The  past,  the  present,  and  the  future  knew : 
95  Uprising  slow,  the  venerable  sage 

Thus  spoke  the  prudence  and  the  fears  of  age : 
"  Belov'd  of  Jove,  Achilles  !  wouldst  thou  know 

Why  angry  Phoebus  bends  his  fatal  bow  ? 

First  give  thy  faith,  and  plight  a  prince's  word 
100  Of  sure  protection,  by  thy  pow'r  and  sword. 


20  THE    ILIAD 

Tor  I  must  speak  what  wisdom  would  conceal, 
And  truths  invidious  to  the  great  reveal. 
Bold  is  the  task,  when  subjects,  grown  too  wise, 
Instruct  a  monarch  where  his  error  lies ; 

105  For  tho7  we  deem  the  short-liv'd  fury  past, 
'Tis  sure,  the  mighty  will  revenge  at  last." 

To  whom  Pelides:  "From  thy  inmost  soul 
Speak  what  thou  know'st,  and  speak  without  control 
Ev'n  by  that  god  I  swear,  who  rules  the  day, 

no  To  whom  thy  hands  the  vows  of  Greece  convey, 
And  whose  blest  oracles  thy  lips  declare : 
Long  as  Achilles  breathes  this  vital  air, 
No  daring  Greek,  of  all  the  num'rous  band, 
Against  his  priest  shall  lift  an  impious  hand : 

115  Not  ev'n  the  chief  by  whom  our  hosts  are  led, 
The  king  of  kings,  shall  touch  that  sacred  head." 

Encouraged  thus,  the  blameless  man  replies : 
"Nor  vows  unpaid,  nor  slighted  sacrifice, 
But  he,  our  chief,  provok'd  the  raging  pest, 

120  Apollo's  vengeance  for  his  injur'd  priest. 
Nor  will  the  god's  a  waken  'd  fury  cease, 
But  plagues  shall  spread,  and  fun'ral  fires  increase, 
Till  the  great  king,  without  a  ransom  paid, 
To  her  own  Chrysa  send  the  black-ey'd  maid. 

125  Perhaps,  with  added  sacrifice  and  pray'r, 

The  priest  may  pardon,  and  the  god  may  spare." 

The  prophet  spoke  ;  when,  with  a  gloomy  frown, 
The  monarch  started  from  his.  shining  throne  5 
Black  choler  filPd  his  breast  that  boil'd  with  ire, 

130  And  from  his  eye-balls  flashed  the  living  fire. 
"  Augur  accurst !  denouncing  mischief  still, 
Prophet  of  plagues,  for  ever  boding  ill ! 
Still  must  that  tongue  some  wounding  message  bring, 
And  still  thy  priestly  pride  provoke  thy  king  ? 

135  For  this  are  Phoebus'  oracles  explored, 


BOOK    I  21 

To  teach  the  Greeks  to  murmur  at  their  lord  ? 

For  this  with  falsehoods  is  my  honour  stain'd, 

Is  heaven  offended  and  a  priest  prof  an' d, 

Because  my  prize,  my  beauteous  maid,  I  hold, 
140  And  heav'nly  charms  prefer  to  proff  er'd  gold  ? 

A  maid,  unmatched  in  manners  as  in  face, 

Skill'd  in  each  art,  and  crown' d  with  every  grace : 

Not  half  so  dear  were  Clytemnestra's  charms, 

When  first  her  blooming  beauties  blest  my  arms. 
145  Yet,  if  the  gods  demand  her,  let  her  sail ; 

Our  cares  are  only  for  the  public  weal : 

Let  me  be  deem'cl  the  hateful  cause  of  all, 

And  suffer,  rather  than  my  people  fall.  . 

The  prize,  the  beauteous  prize,  I  will  resign, 
150  So  dearly  valued,  and  so  justly  mine. 

But  since  for  common  good  I  yield  the  fair, 

My  private  loss  let  grateful  Greece  repair ; 

Nor  unrewarded  let  your  prince  complain, 

That  he  alone  has  fought  and  bled  in  vain." 
155      "  Insatiate  king  !  "  (Achilles  thus  replies) 

"  Fond  of  the  pow'r,  but  fonder  of  the  prize ! 

Wouldst  thou  the  Greeks  their  lawful  prey  should  yield,, 

The  due  reward  of  many  a  well-fought  field  ? 

The  spoils  of  cities  raz'd  and  warriors  slain, 
160  We  share  with  justice,  as  with  toil  we  gain : 

But  to  resume  whatever  thy  av'rice  craves 

(That  trick  of  tyrants)  may  be  borne  by  slaves. 

Yet  if  our  chief  for  plunder  only  fight, 

The  spoils  of  Ilion  shall  thy  loss  requite, 
105  Whene'er,  by  Jove's  decree,  our  conqu'ring  pow'rs 

Shall  humble  to  the  dust  her  lofty  tow'rs." 
Then  thus  the  king :  "  Shall  I  my  prize  resign 

With  tame  content,  and  thou  possest  of  thine  ? 

Great  as  thou  art,  and  like  a  god  in  fight, 
170  Think  not  to  rob  me  of  a  soldier's  right. 


22  THE    ILIAD 

At  thy  demand  shall  I  restore  the  maid  ? 
First  let  the  just  equivalent  be  paid; 
Such  as  a  king  might  ask ;  and  let  it  be 
A  treasure  worthy  her,  and  worthy  me. 

175  Or  grant  me  this,  or  with  a  monarch's  claim 
This  hand  shall  seize  some  other  captive  dame. 
The  mighty  Ajax  shall  his  prize  resign, 
Ulysses'  spoils,  or  ev'n  thy  own,  be  mine. 
.  The  man  who  suffers,  loudly  may  complain ; 

iso  And  rage  he  may,  but  he  shall  rage  in  vain. 
But  this  when  time  requires  —  it  now  remains 
We  launch  a  bark  to  plough  the  wat'ry  plains, 
And  waft  the  sacrifice  to  Chrysa's  shores, 
With  chosen  pilots  and  with  lab'ring  oars. 

185  Soon  shall  the  fair  the  sable  ship  ascend, 
And  some  deputed  prince  the  charge  attend ; 
This  Greta's  king  or  Ajax  shall  fulfil, 
Or  wise  Ulysses  see  performed  our  will ; 
Or,  if  our  royal  pleasure  shall  ordain, 

190  Achilles'  self  conduct  her  o'er  the  main ; 
Let  fierce  Achilles,  dreadful  in  his  rage, 
The  god  propitiate  and  the  pest  assuage." 

At  this,  Pelides,  frowning  stern,  replied : 
"  0  tyrant,  arm'd  with  insolence  and  pride ! 

195  Inglorious  slave  to  int'rest,  ever  join'd 
With  fraud,  unworthy  of  a  royal  mind ! 
What  gen'rous  Greek,  obedient  to  thy  word, 
Shall  form  an  ambush  or  shall  lift  the  sword  ? 
What  cause  have  I  to  war  at  thy  decree  ? 

200  The  distant  Trojans  never  injur'd  me : 

To  Phthia's  realms  no  hostile  troops  they  led ; 
Safe  in  her  vales  my  warlike  coursers  fed ; 
Far  hence  remov'd,  the  hoarse-resounding  main 
And  walls  of  rocks  secure  my  native  reign, 

205  Whose  fruitful  soil  luxuriant  harvests  grace, 


BOOK   I  23 

Eich  in  her  fruits  and  in  her  martial  race. 

Hither  we  sail'd,  a  voluntary  throng, 

T'  avenge  a  private,  not  a  public  wrong : 

What  else  to  Troy  th7  assembled  nations  draws, 
210  But  thine,  ungrateful,  and  thy  brother's  cause  ? 

Is  this  the  pay  our  blood  and  toils  deserve, 

Disgrac'd  and  injur'd  by  the  man  we  serve? 

And  dar'st  thou  threat  to  snatch  my  prize  away, 

Due  to  the  deeds  of  many  a  dreadful  day  ? 
215  A  prize  as  small,  0  tyrant !  matched  with  thine, 

As  thy  own  actions  if  compared  to  mine ! 

Thine  in  each  conquest  is  the  wealthy  prey, 

Tho'  mine  the  sweat  and  danger  of  the  day. 

Some  trivial  present  to  my  ships  I  bear, 
220  Or  barren  praises  pay  the  wounds  of  war. 

But  know,  proud  monarch,  I'm  thy  slave  no  more ; 

My  fleet  shall  waft  me  to  Thessalia's  shore. 

Left  by  Achilles  on  the  Trojan  plain, 

What  spoils,  what  conquests,  shall  Atrides  gain  ?  " 
225      To  this  the  king:  "Fly,  mighty  warrior,  fly ! 

Thy  aid  we  need  not,  and  thy  threats  defy. 

There  want  not  chiefs  in  such  a  cause  to  fight, 

And  Jove  himself  shall  guard  a  monarch's  right. 

Of  all  the  kings  (the  gods'  distinguished  care) 
230  To  pow'r  superior  none  such  hatred  bear : 

Strife  and  debate  thy  restless  soul  employ, 

And  wars  and  horrors  are  thy  savage  joy. 

If  thou  hast  strength,  'twas  Heav'n  that  strength  bestow'd, 

For  know,  vain  man !  thy  valour  is  from  God. 
2:35  Haste,  launch  thy  vessels,  fly  with  speed  away, 

Rule  thy  own  realms  with  arbitrary  sway : 

I  heed  thee  not,  but  prize  at  equal  rate 

Thy  short-liv'd  friendship  and  thy  groundless  hate. 

Go,  threat  thy  earth-born  Myrmidons ;  but  here 
240  'Tis  mine  to  threaten,  prince,  and  thine  to  fear. 


24  THE    ILIAD 

Know,  if  the  god  the  beauteous  dame  demand, 

My  bark  shall  waft  her  to  her  native  land; 

But  then  prepare,  imperious  prince  !  prepare, 

Fierce  as  thou  art,  to  yield  thy  captive  fair: 
245  Ev'n  in  thy  tent  I'll  seize  the  blooming  prize, 

Thy  lov'd  Brisei's  with  the  radiant  eyes. 

Hence  shalt  thou  prove  my  might,  and  curse  the  hour 

Thou  stood7 st  a  rival  of  imperial  pow'r ; 

And  hence  to  all  our  host  it  shall  be  known 
250  That  kings  are  subject  to  the  gods  alone." 

/  Achilles  heard,  with  grief  and  rage  opprest ; 

His  heart  swelPd  high  and  laboured  in  his  breast: 

Distracting  thoughts  by  turns  his  bosom  ruPd, 

Now  fir'd  by  wrath,  and  now  by  reason  cool'd : 
255  That  prompts  his  hand  to  draw  the  deadly  sword, 

Force  through  the  Greeks,  and  pierce  their  haughty  lord ; 

This  whispers  soft,  his  vengeance  to  control, 

And  calm  the  rising  tempest  of  his  soul. 

Just  as  in  anguish  of  suspense  he  stay'd, 
200  While  half  unsheath'd  appeared  the  glitt'ring  blade, 

Minerva  swift  descended  from  above, 

Sent  by  the  sister  and  the  wife  of  Jove 

(For  both  the  princes  claimed  her  equal  care) ; 

Behind  she  stood,  and  by  the  golden  hair 
205  Achilles  seiz'd;  to  him  alone  confest, 

A  sable  cloud  conceaFd  her  from  the  rest. 

He  sees,  and  sudden  to  the  goddess  cries, 

Known  by  the  flames  that  sparkle  from  her  eyes : 

"  Descends  Minerva,  in  her  guardian  care, 
270  A  heav'nly  witness  of  the  wrongs  I  bear 

From  Atreus'  son  ?     Then  let  those  eyes  that  view 

The  daring  crime,  behold  the  vengeance  too." 
"  Forbear !  "  (the  progeny  of  Jove  replies) 

"  To  calm  thy  fury  I  forsook  the  skies  : 
275  Let  great  Achilles,  to  the  gods  resigned, 


BOOK   I  25 

To  reason  yield  the  empire  o'er  his  mind. 

By  awful  Juno  this  command  is  giv'n; 

The  king  and  you  are  both  the  care  of  heav'n. 

The  force  of  keen  reproaches  let  him  feel, 
2so  But  sheathe,  obedient,  thy  revenging  steel. 

For  I  pronounce  (and  trust  a  heav'nly  pow'r) 

Thy  injured  honour  has  its  fated  hour, 

When  the  proud  monarch  shall  thy  arms  implore, 

And  bribe  thy  friendship  with  a  boundless  store. 
285  Then  let  revenge  no  longer  bear  the  sway, 

Command  thy  passions,  and  the  gods  obey." 
To  her  Pelides  :  "  With  regardful  ear, 

'Tis  just,  O  goddess !  I  thy  dictates  hear. 

Hard  as  it  is,  my  vengeance  I  suppress  : 
290  Those  who  revere  the  gods,  the  gods  will  bless." 

He  said,  observant  of  the  blue-ey'd  maid ; 

Then  in  the  sheath  returned  the  shining  blade. 

The  goddess  swift  to  high  Olympus  flies, 

And  joins  the  sacred  senate  of  the  skies. 
295      Nor  yet  the  rage  his  boiling  breast  forsook, 

Which  thus  redoubling  on  Atrides  broke : 

"  0  monster !  mix'd  of  insolence  and  fear, 

Thou  dog  in  forehead,  but  in  heart  a  deer ! 

When  wert  thou  known  in  ambush'd  fights  to  dare, 
soo  Or  nobly  face  the  horrid  front  of  war  ? 

'Tis  ours  the  chance  of  fighting  fields  to  try ; 

Thine  to  look  on  and  bid  the  valiant  die. 

So  much  'tis  safer  through  the  camp  to  go, 

And  rob  a  subject,  than  despoil  a  foe. 
305  Scourge  of  thy  people,  violent  and  base ! 

Sent  in  Jove's  anger  on  a  slavish  race, 

Who,  lost  to  sense  of  gen'rous  freedom  past, 

Are  tam'd  to  wrongs,  or  this  had  been  thy  last. 

Now  by  this  sacred  sceptre  hear  me  swear, 
310  Which  never  more  shall  leaves  or  blossoms  bear, 


26  THE    ILIAD 

Which,  severed  from  the  trunk  (as  I  from  thee) 
On  the  bare  mountains  left  its  parent  tree ; 
This  sceptre,  formed  by  tempered  steel  to  prove 
An  ensign  of  the  delegates  of  Jove, 

315  From  whom  the  pow'r  of  laws  and  justice  springs 
(Tremendous  oath  !  inviolate  to  kings)  : 
By  this  I  swear,  when  bleeding  Greece  again 
Shall  call  Achilles,  she  shall  call  in  vain. 
When,  flush'd  with  slaughter,  Hector  comes  to  spread 

320  The  purpled  shore  with  mountains  of  the  dead, 

Then  shalt  thou  mourn  th'  affront  thy  madness  gave, 

Forc'd  to  deplore,  when  impotent  to  save : 

Then  rage  in  bitterness  of  soul,  to  know 

This  act  has  made  the  bravest  Greek  thy  foe." 

325      He  spoke  ;  and  furious  hurPd  against  the  ground 
His  sceptre  starred  with  golden  studs  around ; 
Then  sternly  silent  sate.     With  like  disdain, 
The  raging  king  returned  his  frowns  again. 
To  calm  their  passion  with  the  words  of  age, 

330  Slow  from  his  seat  arose  the  Pylian  sage, 
Experienced  Nestor,  in  persuasion  skilPd ; 
Words  sweet  as  honey  from  his  lips  distilPd : 
Two  generations  now  had  passed  away, 
Wise  by  his  rules  and  happy  by  his  sway ; 

335  Two  ages  o'er  his  native  realm  he  reign'd, 
And  now  th'  example  of  the  third  remain'd. 
All  viewed  with  awe  the  venerable  man, 
Who  thus  with  mild  benevolence  began : 
"  What  shame,  what  woe  is  this  to  Greece  !  what  joy 

340  To  Troy's  proud  monarch,  and  the  friends  of  Troy ! 
That  adverse  gods  commit  to  stern  debate 
The  best,  the  bravest  of  the  Grecian  state. 
Young  as  ye  are,  this  youthful  heat  restrain, 
Nor  think  your  Nestor's  years  and  wisdom  vain. 

345  A  godlike  race  of  heroes  once  I  knew, 


BOOK    I  27 

Such  as  no  more  these  aged  eyes  shall  view ! 

Lives  there  a  chief  to  match  Pirithous'  fame, 

Dry  as  the  bold,  or  Ceneus'  deathless  name ; 

Theseus,  endued  with  more  than  mortal  might, 
350  Or  Polyphemus,  like  the  gods  in  fight  ? 

With  these  of  old  to  toils  of  battle  bred, 

In  early  youth  my  hardy  days  I  led, 

Fir'd  with  the  thirst  which  virtuous  envy  breeds, 

And  smit  with  love  of  honourable  deeds. 
355  Strongest  of  men,  they  pierc'd  the  mountain  boar, 

Rang'd  the  wild  deserts  red  with  monsters'  gore, 

And  from  their  hills  the  shaggy  Centaurs  tore. 

Yet  these  with  soft  persuasive  arts  I  sway'd ; 

When  Nestor  spoke,  they  listened  and  obeyed. 
360  If  in  my  youth  ev'n  these  esteem 'd  me  wise, 

Do  you,  young  warriors,  hear  my  age  advise. 

Atrides,  seize  not  on  the  beauteous  slave ; 

That  prize  the  Greeks  by  common  suffrage  gave; 

Nor  thou,  Achilles,  treat  our  prince  with  pride ; 
365  Let  kings  be  just,  and  sovereign  pow'r  preside. 

Thee  the  first  honours  of  the  war  adorn, 

Like  gods  in  strength,  and  of  a  goddess  born  ; 

Him  awful  majesty  exalts  above 

The  pow'rs  of  earth  and  sceptred  sons  of  Jove. 
370  Let  both  unite  with  well-consenting  mind, 

So  shall  authority  with  strength  be  join'd. 

Leave  me,  0  king !  to  calm  Achilles'  rage ; 

Rule  thou  thyself,  as  more  advanc'd  in  age. 

Forbid  it,  gods  !  Achilles  should  be  lost, 
375  The  pride  of  Greece  and  bulwark  of  our  host." 
This  said,  he  ceas'd.     The  king  of  men  replies : 

"  Thy  years  are  awful  and  thy  words  are  wise. 

But  that  imperious,  that  unconquer'd  soul, 

No  laws  can  limit,  no  respect  control : 
380  Before  his  pride  must  his  superiors  fall, 


28  THE   ILIAD 

His  word  the  law,  and  he  the  lord  of  all  ? 

Him  must  our  hosts,  our  chiefs,  our  self  obey  ? 

What  king  can  bear  a  rival  in  his  sway  ? 

Grant  that  the  gods  his  matchless  force  have  giv'n ; 
385  Has  foul  reproach  a  privilege  from  heav'n  ?  " 

Here  on  the  monarch's  speech  Achilles  broke, 

And  furious,  thus,  and  interrupting,  spoke : 

"  Tyrant,  I  well  deserv'd  thy  galling  chain, 

To  live  thy  slave,  and  still  to  serve  in  vain, 
390  Should  I  submit  to  each  unjust  decree  : 

Command  thy  vassals,  but  command  not  me. 

Seize  on  Brisei's,  whom  the  Grecians  doom'd 

My  prize  of  war,  yet  tamely  see  resum'd ; 

And  seize  secure  ;  no  more  Achilles  draws 
395  His  conquering  sword  in  any  woman's  cause. 

The  gods  command  me  to  forgive  the  past ; 

But  let  this  first  invasion  be  the  last : 

For  know,  thy  blood,  when  next  thou  clar'st  invade, 

Shall  stream  in  vengeance  on  my  reeking  blade." 
400      At  this  they  ceas'd  ;  the  stern  debate  expired : 

The  chiefs  in  sullen  majesty  retir'd. 
Achilles  with  Patroclus  took  his  way, 

Where  near  his  tents  his  hollow  vessels  lay. 

Meantime  Atrides  launch'd  with  numerous  oars 
405  A  well-rigg'd  ship  for  Chrysa's  sacred  shores : 

High  on  the  deck  was  fair  Chrysei's  plac'd, 

And  sage  Ulysses  with  the  conduct  grac'd : 

Safe  in  her  sides  the  hecatomb  they  stow'd, 

Then,  swiftly  sailing,  cut  the  liquid  road. 
410      The  host  to  expiate  next  the  king  prepares, 

With  pure  lustrations  and  with  solemn  pray'rs. 

Washed  by  the  briny  wave,  the  pious  train 

Are  cleans'd;  and  cast  th' -ablutions  in  the  main. 

Along  the  shores  whole  hecatombs  were  laid, 
415  And  bulls  and  goats  to  Phoebus'  altars  paid. 


BOOK   I  29 

The  sable  fumes  in  curling  spires  arise, 

And  waft  their  grateful  odours  to  the  skies. 
The  army  thus  in  sacred  rites  engag'd, 

Atrides  still  with  deep  resentment  rag'd. 
420  To  wait  his  will  two  sacred  heralds  stood, 

Talthybius  and  Eurybates  the  good. 

"  Haste  to  the  fierce  Achilles7  tent  "  (he  cries)  ; 

"  Thence  bear  Brisei's  as  our  royal  prize  : 

Submit  he  must ;  or,  if  they  will  not  part, 
425  Ourself  in  arms  shall  tear  her  from  his  heart." 

Th'  unwilling  heralds  act  their  lord's  commands ; 

Pensive  they  walk  along  the  barren  sands : 

Arrived,  the  hero  in  his  tent  they  find, 

With  gloomy  aspect,  on  his  arm  reclin'd. 
4:>o  At  awful  distance  long  they  silent  stand, 

Loth  to  advance,  or  speak  their  hard  command; 

Decent  confusion  !     This  the  godlike  man 

Perceived,  and  thus  with  accent  mild  began  : 
"  With  leave  and  honour  enter  our  abodes, 
435  Ye  sacred  ministers  of  men  and  gods ! 

I  know  your  message  ;  by  constraint  yon  came  ; 

Not  you,  but  your  imperious  lord,  I  blame. 

Patroclus,  haste,  the  fair  Brisei's  bring ; 

Conduct  my  captive  to  the  haughty  king. 
440  But  witness,  heralds,  and  proclaim  my  vow, 

Witness  to  gods  above  and  men  below  ! 

But  first,  and  loudest,  to  your  prince  declare, 

That  lawless  tyrant  whose  commands  you  bear ; 

Umnov'd  as  death  Achilles  shall  remain, 
445  Though  prostrate  Greece  should  bleed  at  ev'ry  vein : 

The  raging  chief  in  frantic  passion  lost, 

Blind  to  himself,  and  useless  to  his  host, 

Unskilled  to  judge  the  future  by  the  past, 

In  blood  and  slaughter  shall  repent  at  last." 
450      Patroclus  now  th'  unwilling  beauty  brought ; 


30  THE   ILIAD 

She,  in  soft  sorrows  and  in  pensive  thought, 
Supported  by  the  chiefs  on  either  hand, 
In  silence  past  along  the  winding  strand. 
Not  so  his  loss  the  fierce  Achilles  bore; 

455  But  sad  retiring  to  the  sounding  shore, 
O'er  the  wild  margin  of  the  deep  he  hung, 
That  kindred  deep  from  whence  his  mother  sprung; 
There,  bath'd  in  tears  of  anger  and  disdain, 
Thus  loud  lamented  to  the  stormy  main : 

4f>0      "  O  parent  goddess  !  since  in  early  bloom 
Thy  son  must  fall,  by  too  severe  a  doom ; 
Sure,  to  so  short  a  race  of  glory  born, 
Great  Jove  in  justice  should  this  span  adorn. 
Honour  and  fame  at  least  the  Thund'rer  owed, 

465  And  ill  he  pays  the  promise  of  a  god, 
If  yon  proud  monarch  thus  thy  son  defies, 
Obscures  my  glories,  and  resumes  my  prize." 

Far  in  the  deep  recesses  of  the  main, 
Where  aged  Ocean  holds  his  wat'ry  reign, 

470  The  goddess-mother  heard.     The  waves  divide ; 
And  like  a  mist  she  rose  above  the  tide ; 
Beheld  him  mourning  on  the  naked  shores, 
And  thus  the  sorrows  of  his  soul  explores : 
"  Why  grieves  my  son  ?     Thy  anguish  let  me  share; 

475  Reveal  the  cause,  and  trust  a  parent's  care." 

He,  deeply  sighing,  said :  "  To  tell  my  woe, 
Is  but  to  mention  what  too  well  you  know. 
From  Thebe,  sacred  to  Apollo's  name 
(Eetion's  realm),  our  conqu'ring  army  came, 

480  With  treasure  loaded  and  triumphant  spoils, 
Whose  just  division  crown'd  the  soldier's  toils ; 
But  bright  Chryseis,  heav'nly  prize !  was  led 
By  vote  selected  to  the  gen'ral's  bed. 
The  priest  of  Phoebus  sought  by  gifts  to  gain 

485  His  beauteous  daughter  from  the  victor's  chain ; 


BOOK    I  31 

The  fleet  he  reached,  and,  lowly  bending  down, 

Held  forth  the  sceptre  and  the  laurel  crown, 

Entreating  all ;  but  chief  implor'd  for  grace 

The  brother-kings  of  Atreus'  royal  race. 
490  The  gen'rous  Greeks  their  joint  consent  declare, 

The  priest  to  rev'rence  and  release  the  fair. 

Not  so  Atrides :  he,  with  wonted  pride, 

The  sire  insulted,  and  his  gifts  denied : 

Th'  insulted  sire  (his  god's  peculiar  care) 
4(J5  To  Phoebus  pray'd,  and  Phoebus  heard  the  pray'r. 

A  dreadful  plague  ensues ;  th'  avenging  darts 

Incessant  fly,  and  pierce  the  Grecian  hearts. 

A  prophet  then,  inspired  by  heav'n,  arose, 

And  points  the  crime,  and  thence  derives  the  woes : 
500  Myself  the  first  th'  assembled  chiefs  incline 

T'  avert  the  vengeance  of  the  pow'r  divine; 

Then,  rising  in  his  wrath,  the  monarch  storm'd; 

Incens'd  he  threatened,  and  his  threats  perform'd. 

The  fair  Chrysei's  to  her  sire  was  sent, 
505  With  offer'd  gifts  to  make  the  god  relent ; 

But  now  he  seiz'd  Briseis'  heav'nly  charms, 

And  of  my  valour's  prize  defrauds  my  arms, 

Defrauds  the  votes  of  all  the  Grecian  train; 

And  service,  faith,  and  justice  plead  in  vain. 
510  But,  goddess !  thou  thy  suppliant  son  attend, 

To  high  Olympus'  shining  court  ascend, 

Urge  all  the  ties  to  former  service  ow'd, 

And  sue  for  vengeance  to  the  thund'ring  god. 

Oft  hast  thou  triumph'd  in  the  glorious  boast 
515  That  thou  stood'st  forth,  of  all  th7  ethereal  host, 

When  bold  rebellion  shook  the  realms  above, 

Th'  undaunted  guard  of  cloud-compelling  Jove. 

When  the  bright  partner  of  his  awful  reign, 

The  warlike  maid,  and  monarch  of  the  main, 
520  The  traitor-gods,  by  mad  ambition  driv'n, 


32  THE   ILIAD 

Durst  threat  with  chains  th'  omnipotence  of  heav'n, 
Then,  calPd  by  thee,  the  monster  Titan  came 
(Whom  gods  Briareus,  men  ^Egeon  name)  ; 
Through  wondering  skies  enormous  stalk'd  along, 

525  Not  he  that  shakes  the  solid  earth  so  strong : 
With  giant-pride  at  Jove's  high  throne  he  stands, 
And  brandished  round  him  all  his  hundred  hands. 
Th'  affrighted  gods  confessed  their  awful  lord, 
They  dropp'd  the  fetters,  trembled,  and  ador'd. 

530  This,  goddess,  this  to  his  remembrance  call, 
Embrace  his  knees,  at  his  tribunal  fall ; 
Conjure  him  far  to  drive  the  Grecian  train, 
To  hurl  them  headlong  to  their  fleet  and  main, 
To  heap  the  shores  with  copious  death,  and  bring 

535  The  Greeks  to  know  the  curse  of  such  a  king. 
Let  Agamemnon  lift  his  haughty  head 
O'er  all  his  wide  dominion  of  the  dead, 
And  mourn  in  blood  that  e'er  he  durst  disgrace 
The  boldest  warrior  of  the  Grecian  race." 

540      "  Unhappy  son  !  "  (fair  Thetis  thus  replies, 
While  tears  celestial  trickle  from  her  eyes) 
"  Why  have  I  borne  thee  with  a  mother's  throes. 
To  fates  averse,  and  nurs'd  for  future  woes  ? 
So  short  a  space  the  light  of  heav'n  to  view ! 

545  So  short  a  space,  and  filFd  with  sorrow  too ! 
Oh  might  a  parent's  careful  wish  prevail, 
Far,  far  from  Ilion  should  thy  vessels  sail, 
And  thou,  from  camps  remote,  the  danger  slum, 
Which  now,  alas  !  too  nearly  threats  my  son : 

550  Yet  (what  I  can)  to  move  thy  suit  I'll  go 
To  great  Olympus  crown'd  with  fleecy  snow. 
Meantime,  secure  within  thy  ships,  from  far 
Behold  the  field,  nor  mingle  in  the  war. 
The  sire  of  gods,  and  all  th'  ethereal  train, 

555  On  the  warm  limits  of  the  farthest  main 


BOOK   I  33 

Now  mix  with  mortals,  nor  disdain  to  grace 

The  feasts  of  Ethiopia's  blameless  race : 

Twelve  days  the  powers  indulge  the  genial  rite, 

Returning  with  the  twelfth  revolving  light. 
560  Then  will  I  mount  the  brazen  dome,  and  move 

The  high  tribunal  of  immortal  Jove." 

The  goddess  spoke  :  the  rolling  waves  unclose  ; 

Then  down  the  deep  she  plung'd,  from  whence  she  rose, 

And  left  him  sorrowing  on  the  lonely  coast, 
565  In  wild  resentment  for  the  fair  he  lost. 

^  In  Chrysa's  port  now  sage  Ulysses  rode  ; 

Beneath  the  deck  the  destin'd  victims  stow'd; 

The  sails  they  furl'd,  they  lash'd  the  mast  aside, 

And  dropp'd  their  anchors,  and  the  pinnace  tied. 
570  Next  on  the  shore  their  hecatomb  they  land, 

Chryseis  last  descending  on  the  strand. 

Her,  thus  returning  from  the  furrow'd  main, 

Ulysses  led  to  Phoebus7  sacred  fane ; 

Where  at  his  solemn  altar,  as  the  maid 
575  He  gave  to  Chryses,  thus  the  hero  said : 

"  Hail,  rev'rend  priest !  to  Phoebus'  awful  dome 

A  suppliant  I  from  great  Atrides  come : 

Unransom'd  here  receive  the  spotless  fair ; 

Accept  the  hecatomb  the  Greeks  prepare  ; 
580  And  may  thy  god,  who  scatters  darts  around, 

Aton'd  by  sacrifice,  desist  to  wound." 
At  this  the  sire  embrac'd  the  maid  again, 

So  sadly  lost,  so  lately  sought  in  vain. 

Then  near  the  altar  of  the  darting  king, 
585  Dispos'd  in  rank  their  hecatomb  they  bring ; 

With  water  purify  their  hands,  and  take 

The  sacred  off 'ring  of  the  salted  cake ; 

While  thus,  with  arms  devoutly  rais'd  in  air, 

And  solemn  voice,  the  priest  directs  his  pray'r : 
590      "  God  of  the  silver  bow,  thy  ear  incline, 


34  THE   ILIAD 

Whose  pow'r  encircles  Cilia  the  divine ; 
Whose  sacred  eye  thy  Tenedos  surveys, 
And  gilds  fair  Chrysa  with  distinguished  rays  ! 
If,  fir'd  to  Vengeance  at  thy  priest's  request, 

595  Thy  direful  darts  inflict  the  raging  pest ; 
Once  more  attend ;  avert  the  wasteful  woe, 
And  smile  propitious,  and  unbend  thy  bow." 

So  Chryses  pray'd :  Apollo  heard  his  pray'r ; 
And  now  the  Greeks  their  hecatomb  prepare ; 

uoo  Between  their  horns  the  salted  barley  threw, 
And  with  their  heads  to  heav'n  the  victims  slew : 
The  limbs  they  sever  from  th'  inclosing  hide; 
The  thighs,  selected  to  the  gods,  divide  : 
On  these,  in  double  cauls  involved  with  art, 

605  The  choicest  morsels  lay  from  ev'ry  part. 
The  priest  himself  before  his  altar  stands, 
And  burns  the  off 'ring  with  his  holy  hands, 
Pours  the  black  wine,  and  sees  the  flames  aspire ; 
The  youths  with  instruments  surround  the  fire. 

610  The  thighs  thus  sacrificed,  and  entrails  dress'd, 
Th'  assistants  part,  transfix,  and  roast  the  rest : 
Then  spread  the  tables,  the  repast  prepare, 
Each  takes  his  seat,  and  each  receives  his  share. 
When  now  the  rage  of  hunger  was  represt, 

015  With  pure  libations  they  conclude  the  feast ; 

The  youths  with  wine  the  copious  goblets  crown'd, 
And,  pleased,  dispense  the  flowing  bowls  around. 
With  hymns  divine  the  joyous  banquet  ends, 
The  paeans  lengthen' d  till  the  sun  descends : 

620  The  Greeks,  restor'd,  the  grateful  notes  prolong : 
Apollo  listens,  and  approves  the  song. 

'Twas  night :  the  chiefs  beside  their  vessel  lie, 
Till  rosy  morn  had  purpled  o'er  the  sky : 
Then  launch,  and  hoise  the  mast;  indulgent  gales, 

625  Supplied  by  Phoebus,  fill  the  swelling  sails ; 


BOOK  I  35 

The  milk-white  canvas  bellying  as  they  blow, 

The  parted  ocean  foams  and  roars  below : 

Above  the  bounding  billows  swift  they  flew, 

Till  now  the  Grecian  camp  appeared  in  view. 
630  Far  on  the  beach  they  haul  their  barks  to  land 

(The  crooked  keel  divides  the  yellow  sand), 

Then  part,  where,  stretch' d  along  the  winding  bay, 

The  ships  and  tents  in  mingled  prospect  lay. 

But,  raging  still,  amidst  his  navy  sate 
635  The  stern  Achilles,  stedf  ast  in  his  hate ; 

Nor  mix'd  in  combat  nor  in  council  join'd ; 

But  wasting  cares  lay  heavy  on  his  mind ; 

In  his  black  thoughts  revenge  and  slaughter  roll, 

And  scenes  of  blood  rise  dreadful  in  his  soul. 
640      Twelve  days  were  past,  and  now  the  dawning  light 

The  gods  had  summoned  to  th'  Olympian  height : 

Jove,  first  ascending  from  the  wat'ry  bow'rs, 

Leads  the  long  order  of  ethereal  pow'rs, 

When,  like  a  morning  mist,  in  early  day, 
645  Rose  from  the  flood  the  daughter  of  the  sea ; 

And  to  the  seats  divine  her  flight  addrest. 

There,  far  apart,  and  high  above  the  rest, 

The  Thund'rer  sate ;  where  old  Olympus  shrouds 

His  hundred  heads  in  heav'n,  and  props  the  clouds. 
650  Suppliant  the  goddess  stood :  one  hand  she  plac'd 

Beneath  his  beard,  and  one  his  knees  embraced. 

"  If  e'er,  0  father  of  the  gods  ! "  she  said, 

"  My  words  cou'd  please  thee,  or  my  actions  aid ; 

Some  marks  of  honour  on  my  son  bestow, 
655  And  pay  in  glory  what  in  life  you  owe. 

Fame  is  at  least  by  heav'nly  promise  due 

To  life  so  short,  and  now  dishonour' d  too. 

Avenge  this  wrong,  0  ever  just  and  wise ! 

Let  Greece  be  humbled,  and  the  Trojans  rise ; 
660  Till  the  proud  king  and  all  th'  Achaian  race 


36  THE    ILIAD 

Shall  heap  with  honours  him  they  now  disgrace." 
Thus  Thetis  spoke,  but  Jove  in  silence  held 

The  sacred  councils  of  his  breast  conceal'd. 

Not  so  repuls'd,  the  goddess  closer  press'd, 
605  Still  grasp'd  his  knees,  and  urg'd  the  dear  request : 

"  0  sire  of  gods  and  men  !  thy  suppliant  hear  ; 

Refuse  or  grant ;  for  what  has  Jove  to  fear  ? 

Or,  oh  !  declare,  of  all  the  powers  above, 

Is  wretched  Thetis  least  the  care  of  Jove  ?  " 
670      She  said,  and  sighing  thus  the  god  replies 

Who  rolls  the  thunder  o'er  the  vaulted  skies  : 

"  What  hast  thou  ask'd  ?     Ah !  why  should  Jove  engage 

In  foreign  contests  and  domestic  rage, 

The  gods'  complaints,  and  Juno's  fierce  alarms, 
075  Wrhile  I,  too  partial,  aid  the  Trojan  arms  ? 

Go,  lest  the  haughty  partner  of  my  sway 

With  jealous  eyes  thy  close  access  survey  ; 

But  part  in  peace,  secure  thy  pray'r  is  sped : 

Witness  the  sacred  honours  of  our  head, 
680  The  nod  that  ratifies  the  will  divine, 

The  faithful,  fix'd,  irrevocable  sign ; 

This  seals  thy  suit,  and  this  fulfils  thy  vows  —  " 
.  He  spoke  ;  and  awful  bends  his  sable  brows, 

Shakes  his  ambrosial  curls,  and  gives  the  nod, 
685  The  stamp  of  fate  and  sanction  of  the  god : 

High  heav'n  with  trembling  the  dread  signal  took, 

And  all  Olympus  to  the  centre  shook. 

Swift  to  the  seas  profound  the  goddess  flies, 

Jove  to  his  starry  mansion  in  the  skies. 
690  The  shining  synod  of  th'  immortals  wait 

The  coming  god,  and  from  their  thrones  of  state 

Arising  silent,  wrapt  in  holy  fear, 

Before  the  majesty  of  heav'n  appear. 

Trembling  they  stand,  while  Jove  assumes  the  throne, 
oon  All,  but  the  god's  imperious  queen  alone : 


BOOK   I  37 

Late  had  she  view'd  the  silver-footed  dame, 

And  all  her  passions  kindled  into  flame. 

"  Say,  artful  manager  of  heav'n  "  (she  cries), 

"Who  now  partakes  the  secrets  of  the  skies  ? 
700  Thy  Juno  knows  not  the  decree  of  fate, 

In  vain  the  partner  of  imperial  state. 

What  fav'rite  goddess  then  those  cares  divides 
,  Which  Jove  in  prudence  from  his  consort  hides  ?  " 

To  this  the  Thund'rer :  "  Seek  not  thou  to  find 
705  The  sacred  counsels  of  almighty  mind : 

Involved  in  darkness  lies  the  great  decree, 

Nor  can  the  depths  of  fate  be  pierc'd  by  thee ; 

What  fits  thy  knowledge,  thou  the  first  shalt  know : 

The  first  of  gods  above  and  men  below  ; 
710  But  thou  nor  they  shall  search  the  thoughts  that  roll 

Deep  in  the  close  recesses  of  my  soul." 
Full  on  the  sire  the  goddess  of  the  skies 

RolFd  the  large  orbs  of  her  majestic  eyes, 

And  thus  return'd  :  "  Austere  Saturnius,  say, 
715  From  whence  this  wrath,  or  who  controls  thy  sway  ? 

Thy  boundless  will,  for  me,  remains  in  force, 

And  all  thy  counsels  take  the  destin'd  course. 

But  'tis  for  Greece  I  fear :  for  late  was  seen 

In  close  consult  the  silver-footed  queen. 
720  Jove  to  his  Thetis  nothing  could  deny, 

Nor  was  the  signal  vain  that  shook  the  sky. 

What  fatal  favour  has  the  goddess  won, 

To  grace  her  fierce  inexorable  son  ? 

Perhaps  in  Grecian  blood  to  drench  the  plain, 
725  And  glut  his  vengeance  with  my  people  slain." 
Then  thus  the  god :  "  Oh  restless  fate  of  pride, 

That  strives  to  learn  what  heav'n  resolves  to  hide ! 

Vain  is  the  search,  presumptuous  and  abhorr'd, 

Anxious  to  thee,  and  odious  to  thy  lord. 
730  Let  this  suffice ;  th7  immutable  decree 


38  THE   ILIAD 

No  force  can  shake :  what  is,  that  ought  to  be. 

Goddess,  submit,  nor  dare  our  will  withstand, 

But  dread  the  power  of  this  avenging  hand ; 

Th'  united  strength  of  all  the  gods  above 
735  In  vain  resists  th?  omnipotence  of  Jove." 

The  Thund'rer  spoke,  nor  durst  the  queen  reply  • 

A  rev'rend  horror  silenc'd  all  the  sky. 

The  feast  disturbed  with  sorrow  Vulcan  saw, 

His  mother  menaced,  and  the  gods  in  awe  ; 
740  Peace  at  his  heart,  and  pleasure  his  design, 

Thus  interposed  the  architect  divine : 

"  The  wretched  quarrels  of  the  mortal  state 

Are  far  unworthy,  gods  !  of  your  debate  : 
"  Let  men  their  days  in  senseless  strife  employ; 
745  We,  in  eternal  peace  and  constant  joy. 

Thou,  goddess-mother,  with  our  sire  comply, 

Nor  break  the  sacred  union  of  the  sky : 

Lest,  rous'd  to  rage,  he  shake  the  blest  abodes, 

Launch  the  red  lightning,  and  dethrone  the  gods. 
750  If  you  submit,  the  Thund'rer  stands  appeas'd ; 

The  gracious  pow'r  is  willing  to  be  pleas'd." 
Thus  Vulcan  spoke ;  and,  rising  with  a  bound, 

The  double  bowl  with  sparkling  nectar  crown'd, 

Which  held  to  Juno  in  a  cheerful  way, 
755  "  Goddess  "  (he  cried),  "  be  patient  and  obey. 

Dear  as  you  are,  if  Jove  his  arm  extend, 

I  can  but  grieve,  unable  to  defend. 

What  god  so  daring  in  your  aid  to  move, 

Or  lift  his  hand  against  the  force  of  Jove  ? 
760  Once  in  your  cause  I  felt  his  matchless  might, 

HurPd  headlong  downward  from  th'  ethereal  height ; 

Tost  all  the  day  in  rapid  circles  round ; 

Nor,  till  the  sun  descended,  touch'd  the  ground : 

Breathless  I  fell,  in  giddy  motion  lost ; 
765  The  Sirithians  rais'd  me  on  the  Lemnian  coast." 


BOOK   I  39 

He  said,  and  to  her  hands  the  goblet  heav'd, 
Which,  with  a  smile,  the  white-arm'd  queen  received. 
Then  to  the  rest  he  filPd ;  and,  in  his  turn, 
Each  to  his  lips  applied  the  nectar7  d  urn. 

770  Vulcan  with  awkward  grace  his  office  plies, 
And  unextinguished  laughter  shakes  the  skies. 

Thus  the  blest  gods  the  genial  day  prolong- 
In  feasts  ambrosial  and  celestial  song. 
Apollo  tun'd  the  lyre ;  the  muses  round 

775  With  voice  alternate  aid  the  silver  sound. 
Meantime  the  radiant  sun,  to  mortal  sight 
Descending  swift,  roll'd  down  the  rapid  light. 
Then  to  their  starry  domes  the  gods  depart, 
The  shining  monuments  of  Vulcan's  art : 

780  Jove  on  his  couch  reclin'd  his  awful  head, 
And  Juno  slumber'd  on  the  golden  bed. 


BOOK  VI 

. 

Now  heav'n  forsakes  the  fight ;  th'  immortals  yield 

To  human  force  and  human  skill  the  field : 

Dark  show'rs  of  jav'lins  fly  from  foes  to  foes ; 

Now  here,  now  there,  the  tide  of  combat  flows ; 
5  While  Troy's  fam'd  streams,  that  bound  the  deathful  plain, 

On  either  side  run  purple  to  the  main. 
Great  Ajax  first  to  conquest  led  the  way, 

Broke  the  thick  ranks,  and  turn'd  the  doubtful  day. 

The  Thraciaii  Acamas  his  faulchion  found, 
10  And  hew'd  th'  enormous  giant  to  the  ground ; 

His  thundering  arm  a  deadly  stroke  imprest 

Where  the  black  horse-hair  nodded  o'er  his  crest  : 

Fix'd  in  his  front  the  brazen  weapon  lies, 

And  seals  in  endless  shades  his  swimming  eyes. 
15  Next  Teuthras'  son  distain'd  the  sands  with  blood  ; 

Axylus,  hospitable,  rich,  and  good: 

In  fair  Arisba's  walls  (his  native  place) 

He  held  his  seat ;  a  friend  to  human  race. 

Fast  by  the  road,  his  ever-open  door 
20  Oblig'd  the  wealthy  and  relieved  the  poor. 

To  stern  Tydides  now  he  falls  a  prey, 

No  friend  to  guard  him  in  the  dreadful  day ! 

Breathless  the  good  man  fell,  and  by  his  side 

His  faithful  servant,  old  Calesius,  died. 
25      By  great  Euryalus  was  Dresus  slain, 

And  next  he  laid  Opheltius  on  the  plain. 

Two  twins  were  near,  bold,  beautiful,  and  young, 

From  a  fair  Naiad  and  Bucolion  sprung 

(Laomedon's  white  flocks  Bucolion  fed, 
30  That  monarch's  first-born  by  a  foreign  bed ; 

40 


BOOK   VI  41 

In  secret  woods  he  won  the  Naiad's  grace, 

And  two  fair  infants  crown'd  his  strong  embrace)  : 

Here  dead  they  lay  in  all  their  youthful  charms  ; 

The  ruthless  victor  stripp'd  their  shining  arms. 
35      Astyalus  by  Poly  pee  tes  fell ; 

Ulysses7  spear  Pidytes  sent  to  hell ; 

By  Teucer's  shaft  brave  Aretaon  bled, 

And  Nestor's  son  laid  stern  Ablerus  dead ; 

Great  Agamemnon,  leader  of  the  brave, 
40  The  mortal  wound  of  rich  Elatus  gave, 

Who  held  in  Pedasus  his  proud  abode, 

And  till'd  the  banks  where  silver  Satnio  flowM. 

Melanthius  by  Eurypylus  was  slain ; 

And  Phylacus  from  Leitus  flies  in  vain. 
45      Unblest  Adrastus  next  at  mercy  lies 

Beneath  the  Spartan  spear,  a  living  prize. 

Scar'd  with  the  din  and  tumult  of  the  fight, 

His  headlong  steeds,  precipitate  in  flight, 

Kush'd  on  a  tamarisk's  strong  trunk,  and  broke 
50  The  shatter'd  chariot  from  the  crooked  yoke ; 

Wide  o'er  the  field,  resistless  as  the  wind, 

For  Troy  they  fly,  and  leave  their  lord  behind. 

Prone  on  his  face  he  sinks  beside  the  wheel. 

Atrides  o'er  him  shakes  his  vengeful  steel ; 
55  The  fallen  chief  in  suppliant  posture  press'd 

The  victor's  knees,  and  thus  his  pray'r  address'd : 
"  Oh !  spare  my  youth,  and  for  the  life  I  owe 

Large  gifts  of  price  my  father  shall  bestow : 

When  fame  shall  tell  that,  not  in  battle  slain, 
00  Thy  hollow  ships  his  captive  son  detain ; 

Rich  heaps  of  brass  shall  in  thy  tent  be  told, 

And  steel  well-temper'd,  and  persuasive  gold." 
He  said :  compassion  touch'd  the  hero's  heart ; 

He  stood  suspended  with  the  lifted  dart. 
65  As  pity  pleaded  for  his  vanquished  prize. 


42  THE    ILIAD 

Stern  Agamemnon  swift  to  vengeance  flies, 

And  furious  thus  :  "  0  impotent  of  mind  ! 

Shall  these,  shall  these  Atrides'  mercy  find  ? 

Well  hast  thpu  known  proud  Troy's  perfidious  land? 
70  And  well  her  natives  merit  at  thy  hand ! 

Not  one  of  all  the  race,  nor  sex,  nor  age, 

Shall  save  a  Trojan  from  our  boundless  rage ; 

Ilion  shall  perish  whole,  and  bury  all ; 

Her  babes,  her  infants  at  the  breast,  shall  fall. 
75  A  dreadful  lesson  of  exampled  fate, 

To  warn  the  nations  and  to  curb  the  great !  " 

The  monarch  spoke ;  the  words,  with  warmth  addrest, 

To  rigid  justice  steePd  his  brother's  breast. 

Fierce  from  his  knees  the  hapless  chief  he  thrust ; 
80  The  monarch's  jav'lin  stretch'd  him  in  the  dust. 

Then,  pressing  with  his  foot  his  panting  heart, 

Forth  from  the  slain  he  tugg'd  the  reeking  dart. 

Old  Nestor  saw,  and  rous'd  the  warriors'  rage : 

"Thus,  heroes  !  thus  the  vig'rous  combat  wage  ! 
85  No  son  of  Mars  descend,  for  servile  gains, 

To  touch  the  booty,  while  a  foe  remains. 

Behold  yon  glitt'ring  host,  your  future  spoil ! 

First  gain  the  conquest,  then  reward  the  toil." 
And  now  had  Greece  eternal  fame  acquir'd, 
90  And  frighted  Troy  within  her  walls  retir'd ; 

Had  not  sage  Helenus  her  state  redrest, 

Taught  by  the  gods  that  mov'd  his  sacred  breast. 

Where  Hector  stood,  with  great  ^Eneas  join'd, 

The  seer  reveal'd  the  counsels  of  his  mind : 
95      "  Ye  gen'rous  chiefs  !  on  whom  th'  immortals  lay 

The  cares  and  glories  of  this  doubtful  day, 

On  whom  your  aid's,  your  country's  hopes  depend, 

Wise  to  consult  and  active  to  defend ! 

Here,  at  our  gates,  your  brave  efforts  unite, 
100  Turn  back  the  routed,  and  forbid  the  flight ; 


BOOK   VI  43 

Ere  yet  their  wives'  soft  arms  the  cowards  gain, 

The  sport  and  insult  of  the  hostile  train. 

When  your  commands  have  hearten' d  ev'ry  band, 

Ourselves,  here  fix'd,  will  make  the  dangerous  stand ; 
105  Press'd  as  we  are  and  sore  of  former  fight, 

These  straits  demand  our  last  remains  of  might. 

Meanwhile,  thou,  Hector,  to  the  town  retire, 

And  teach  our  mother  what  the  gods  require  : 

Direct  the  queen  to  lead  th'  assembled  train 
no  Of  Troy's  chief  matrons  to  Minerva's  fane ; 

Unbar  the  sacred  gates,  and  seek  the  pow'r, 

With  oifer'd  vows,  in  Ilion's  topmost  tow'r. 

The  largest  mantle  her  rich  wardrobes  hold, 

Most  priz'd  for  art,  and  laboured  o'er  with  gold, 
L15  Before  the  goddess'  honour'd  knees  be  spread; 

And  twelve  young  heifers  to  her  altars  led. 

If  so  the  pow'r,  aton'd  by  fervent  prayer, 

Our  wives,  our  infants,  and  our  city  spare, 

And  far  avert  Tydides'  wasteful  ire, 
120  That  mows  whole  troops  and  makes  all  Troy  retire. 

Not  thus  Achilles  taught  our  hosts  to  dread, 

Sprung  though  he  was  from  more  than  mortal  bed ; 

Not  thus  resistless  rul'd  the  stream  of  fight, 

In  rage  unbounded  and  unmatch'd  in  might." 
125      Hector  obedient  heard,  and  with  a  bound 

Leap'd  from  his  trembling  chariot  to  the  ground; 

Through  all  his  host,  inspiring  force,  he  flies, 

And  bids  the  thunder  of  the  battle  rise. 

With  rage  recruited  the  bold  Trojans  glow, 
130  And  turn  the  tide  of  conflict  on  the  foe : 

Fierce  in  the  front  he  shakes  two  dazzling  spears ; 

All  Greece  recedes,  and  'midst  her  triumph  fears : 

Some  god,  they  thought,  who  rul'd  the  fate  of  wars, 

Shot  down  avenging  from  the  vault  of  stars. 
135      Then  thus,  aloud :  "  Ye  dauntless  Dardans,  hear ! 


44  THE   ILIAD 

And  you  whom  distant  nations  send  to  war ! 

Be  mindful  of  the  strength  your  fathers  bore ; 

Be  still  your  selves,'  and  Hector  asks  no  more. 

One  hour  demands  me  in  the  Trojan  wall, 
140  To  bid  our  altars  flame,  and  victims  fall : 

Nor  shall,  I  trust,  the  matrons'  holy  train 

And  rev'rend  elders  seek  the  gods  in  vain." 
This  said,  with  ample  strides  the  hero  past ; 

The  shield's  large  orb  behind  his  shoulder  cast, 
145  His  neck  o'ershading,  to  his  ankle  hung ; 

And  as  he  march'd  the  brazen  buckler  rung. 
Now  paus'd  the  battle  (godlike  Hector  gone), 

When  daring  Glaucus  and  great  Tydeus'  son 

Between  both  armies  met;  the  chiefs  from^far 
150  Observed  each  other,  and  had  mark'd  for  war. 

Near  as  they  drew,  Tydides  thus  began : 

"  What  art  thou,  boldest  of  the  race  of  man  ? 

Our  eyes,  till  now,  that  aspect  ne'er  beheld, 

Where  fame  is  reap'd  amid  th'  embattled  field ; 
155  Yet  far  before  the  troops  thou  dar'st  appear, 

And  meet  a  lance  the  fiercest  heroes  fear. 

Unhappy  they  and  born  of  luckless  sires, 

Who  tempt  our  fury  when  Minerva  fires  ! 

But  if  from  heaven,  celestial,  thou  descend, 
160  Know,  with  immortals  we  no  more  contend. 

Not  long  Lycurgus  view'd  the  golden  light, 

That  daring  man  who  mix'd  with  gods  in  fight. 

Bacchus  and  Bacchus'  votaries  he  drove 

With  brandish'd  steel  from  Nyssa's  sacred  grove : 
165  Their  consecrated  spears  lay  scatter'd  round, 

With  curling  vines  and  twisted  ivy  bound ; 

While  Bacchus  headlong  sought  the  briny  flood, 

And  Thetis'  arms  receiv'd  the  trembling  god. 

Nor  fail'd  the  crime  th'  immortals*  wrath  to  move 
170  (Th'  immortals  bless'd  with  endless  ease  above) ; 


BOOK   VI  45 

Deprived  of  sight  by  their  avenging  doom, 

Cheerless  he  breath 'd  and  wander'd  in  the  gloom  : 

Then  sunk  unpitied  to  the  dire  abodes, 

A  wretch  accurst  and  hated  by  the  gods  ! 
175  I  brave  not  heaven  ;  but  if  the  fruits  of  earth 

Sustain  thy  life,  and  human  be  thy  birth, 

Bold  as  thou  art,  too  prodigal  of  breath, 

Approach,  and  enter  the  dark  gates  of  death." 

"  What,  or  from  whence  I  am,  or  who  my  sire  " 
180  (Replied  the  chief),  "  can  Tydeus'  son  inquire  ? 

Like  leaves  on  trees  the  race  of  man  is  found, 

Now  green  in  youth,  now  withering  on  the  ground  : 

Another  race  the  following  spring  supplies ; 

They  fall  successive  and  successive  rise : 
185  So  generations  in  their  course  decay ; 

So  flourish  these,  when  those  are  passed  away. 

Pmt  if  thou  still  persist  to  search  my  birth, 

Then  hear  a  tale  that  fills  the  spacious  earth. 

"A  city  stands  on  Argos'  utmost  bound, 
190  (Argos  the  fair,  for  warlike  steeds  renown'd) ; 

^Eolian  Sisyphus,  with  wisdom  blest, 

In  ancient  time  the  happy  walls  possest, 

Then  call'd  Ephyre :  Glaucus  was  his  son, 

Great  Glaucus,  father  of  Bellerophon, 
i<)5  Who  o'er  the  sons  of  men  in  beauty  shin'd, 

LovVl  for  that  valour  which  preserves  mankind. 

Then  mighty  Prcetus  Argos'  sceptre  sway'd, 

Whose  hard  commands  Bellerophon  obeyed. 

With  direful  jealousy  the  monarch  rag'd, 
200  And  the  brave  prince  in  numerous  toils  engag'd. 

For  him  Antsea  burn'd  with  lawless  flame, 

And  strove  to  tempt  him  from  the  paths  of  fame  : 

In  vain  she  tempted  the  relentless  youth, 

Endu'd  with  wisdom,  sacred  fear,  and  truth. 
205  Fir'd  at  his  scorn,  the  queen  to  Proetus  fled, 


46  THE   ILIAD 

And  begg'd  revenge  for  her  insulted  bed. 

Incens'd  he  heard,  resolving  on  his  fate ; 

But  hospitable  laws  restrained  his  hate : 

To  Lycia  the  devoted  youth  he  sent, 
210  With  tablets  seal'd,  that  told  his  dire  intent. 

Now,  bless'd  by  ev'ry  pow'r  who  guards  the  good, 

The  chief  arrived  at  Xanthus7  silver  flood : 

There  Lycia's  monarch  paid  him  honours  due ; 

Nine  days  he  feasted,  and  nine  bulls  he  slew. 
215  But  when  the  tenth  bright  morning  orient  glow'd, 

The  faithful  youth  his  monarch's  mandate  showed : 

The  fatal  tablets,  till  that  instant  seal'd, 

The  deathful  secret  to  the  king  reveal'd. 

First,  dire  Chimsera's  conquest  was  enjoin'd : 
220  A  mingled  monster,  of  no  mortal  kind ; 

Behind,  a  dragon's  fiery  tail  was  spread ; 

A  goat's  rough  body  bore  a  lion's  head ; 

Her  pitchy  nostrils  flaky  flames  expire : 

Her  gaping  throat  emits  infernal  fire. 
225      "  This  pest  he  slaughtered  (for  he  read  the  skies. 

And  trusted  heav'n's  informing  prodigies)  ; 

Then  met  in  arms  the  Solymsean  crew 

(Fiercest  of  men),  and  those  the  warrior  slew. 

Next  the  bold  Amazon's  whole  force  defied ; 
230  And  conquered  still,  for  heav'n  was  on  his  side. 
"  Nor  ended  here  his  toils :  his  Lycian  foes, 

At  his  return,  a  treach'rous  ambush,  rose 

With  levell'd  spears  along  the  winding  shore : 

There  fell  they  breathless,  and  return'd  no  more. 
235      "At  length  the  monarch  with  repentant  grief 

Conf ess'd  the  gods,  and  god-descended  chief  j 

His  daughter  gave,  the  stranger  to  detain, 

With  half  the  honours  of  his  ample  reign. 

The  Lycians  grant  a  chosen  space  of  ground, 
240  With  woods,  with  vineyards,  and  with  harvests  crown'd. 


BOOK  VI  47 

There  long  the  chief  his  happy  lot  possessed, 

With  two  brave  sons  and  one  fair  daughter  bless'd 

(Fair  ev'n  in  heav'nly  eyes ;  her  fruitful  love 

Crown'd  with  Sarpedon's  birth  th?  embrace  of  Jove)  ; 
245  But  when  at  last,  distracted  in  his  mind, 

Forsook  by  heav'n,  forsaking  human  kind, 

Wide  o'er  th?  Aleian  field  ho  chose  to  stray, 

A  long,  forlorn,  uncomfortable  way ! 

Woes  heap'd  on  woes  consumed  his  wasted  heart ; 
250  His  beauteous  daughter  fell  by  Phoebe's  dart ; 

His  eldest-born  by  raging  Mars  was  slain, 

In  combat  on  the  Solymaean  plain. 

Hippolochus  survived;  from  him  I  came, 

The  honour' d  author  of  my  birth  and  name ; 
255  By  his  decree  I  sought  the  Trojan  town, 

By  his  instructions  learn  to  win  renown ; 

To  stand  the  first  in  worth  as  in  command, 

To  add  new  honours  to  my  native  land, 

Before  my  eyes  my  mighty  sires  to  place, 
260  And  emulate  the  glories  of  our  race." 

He  spoke,  and  transport  fill'd  Tydides'  heart ; 

In  earth  the  gen'rous  warrior  fix'd  his  dart ; 

Then  friendly  thus  the  Lycian  prince  addrest : 

"  Welcome,  my  brave  hereditary  guest ! 
265  Thus  ever  let  us  meet,  with  kind  embrace, 

]STor  stain  the  sacred  friendship  of  our  race. 

Know,  chief,  our  grandsires  have  been  guests  of  old, 

(Eneus  the  strong,  Bellerophon  the  bold ; 

Our  ancient  seat  his  honoured  presence  grac'd, 
270  Where  twenty  days  in  genial  rites  he  pass'd. 

The  parting  heroes  mutual  presents  left: 

A  golden  goblet  was  thy  grandsire's  gift ; 

(Eneus  a  belt  of  matchless  work  bestow'd, 

That  rich  with  Tyrian  dye  refulgent  glow'd 
275  (This  from  his  pledge  I  learn'd,  which,  safely  stor'd 


48  THE   ILIAD 

Among  my  treasures,  still  adorns  my  board : 
For  Tydeus  left  me  young,  when  Thebe's  wall 
Beheld  the  sons  of  Greece  untimely  fall). 
Mindful  of  this,  in  friendship  let  us  join ; 

280  If  heav'n  our  steps  to  foreign  lands  incline, 
My  guest  in  Argos  thou,  and  I  in  Lycia  thine. 
Enough  of  Trojans  to  this  lance  shall  yield, 
In  the  full  harvest  of  yon'  ample  field ; 
Enough  of  Greeks  shall  dye  thy  spear  with  gore ; 

285  But  thou  and  Diomed  be  foes  no  more. 

Now  change  we  arms,  and  prove  to  either  host 
We  guard  the  friendship  of  the  line  we  boast." 

Thus  having  said,  the  gallant  chiefs  alight, 
Their  hands  they  join,  their  mutual  faith  they  plight; 

21)0  Brave  Glaucus  then  each  narrow  thought  resign'd 
(Jove  warm'd  his  bosom  and  enlarg'd  his  mind) : 
For  Diomed' s  brass  arms,  of  mean  device, 
For  which  nine  oxen  paid  (a  vulgar  price), 
He  gave  his  own,  of  gold  divinely  wrought : 

295  A  hundred  beeves  the  shining  purchase  bought. 

Meantime  the  guardian  of  the  Trojan  state, 
Great  Hector,  enter'd  at  the  Scsean  gate. 
Beneath  the  beech-tree's  consecrated  shades, 
The  Trojan  matrons  and  the  Trojan  maids 

300  Around  him  flock'd,  all  press'd  with  pious  care 
For  husbands,  brothers,  sons,  engag'd  in  war. 
He  bids  the  train  in  long  procession  go, 
And  seek  the  gods,  t'  avert  th'  impending  woe. 
And  now  to  Priam's  stately  courts  he  came, 

305  Eais'd  on  arch'd  columns  of  stupendous  frame ; 
O'er  these  a  range  of  marble  structure  runs, 
The  rich  pavilions  of  his  fifty  sons, 
In  fifty  chambers  lodg'd :  and  rooms  of  state 
Oppos'd  to  those,  where  Priam's  daughters  sate : 

310  Twelve  domes  for  them  and  their  lov'd  spouses  shone, 


BOOK  VT  49 

Of  equal  beauty  and  of  polish' d  stone. 

Hither  great  Hector  pass'd,  nor  passed  unseen 

Of  royal  Hecuba,  his  mother  queen 

(With  her  Laodice,  whose  beauteous  face 
315  Surpassed  the  nymphs  of  Troy's  illustrious  race). 

Long  in  a  strict  embrace  she  held  her  son, 

And  pressed  his  hand,  and  tender  thus  begun : 
"  0  Hector  !  say,  what  great  occasion  calls 

My  son  from  fight,  when  Greece  surrounds  our  walls  ? 
320  Com'st  thou  to  supplicate  th'  almighty  pow'r, 

With  lifted  hands  from  Ilion's  lofty  tow'r  ? 

Stay,  till  I  bring  the  cup  with  Bacchus  crown'd, 

In  Jove's  high  name,  to  sprinkle  on  the  ground, 

And  pay  due  vows  to  all  the  gods  around. 
325  Then  with  a  plenteous  draught  refresh  thy  soul, 

And  draw  new  spirits  from  the  gen'rous  bowl  j 

Spent  as  thou  art  with  long  laborious  fight, 

The  brave  defender  of  thy  country's  right." 

"Far  hence  be  Bacchus'  gifts  '  (the  chief  rejoin'd); 
330  "  Inflaming  wine,  pernicious  to  mankind, 

Unnerves  the  limbs,  and  dulls  the  noble  mind. 

Let  chiefs  abstain,  and  spare  the  sacred  juice 

To  sprinkle  to  the  gods,  its  better  use. 

By  me  that  holy  office  were  profan'd ; 
335  HI  fits  it  me,  with  human  gore  distain'd, 

To  the  pure  skies  these  horrid  hands  to  raise, 

Or  offer  heaven's  great  sire  polluted  praise. 

You,  with  your  matrons,  go,  a  spotless  train  ! 

And  burn  rich  odors  in  Minerva's  fane. 
340  The  largest  mantle  your  full  wardrobes  hold, 

Most  priz'd  for  art,  and  labour'd  o'er  with  gold, 

Before  the  goddess'  honour'd  knees  be  spread, 

And  twelve  young  heifers  to  her  altar  led. 

So  may  the  pow'r,  aton'd  by  fervent  pray'r, 
345  Our  wives,  our  infants,  and  our  city  spare, 


50  THE   ILIAD 

And  far  avert  Tydides'  wasteful  ire, 

Who  mows  wThole  troops,  and  makes  all  Troy  retire. 

Be  this,  0  mother,  your  religious  care ; 

I  go  to  rouse  soft  Paris  to  the  war : 
350  If  yet,  not  lost  to  all  the  sense  of  shame, 

The  recreant  warrior  hear  the  voice  of  fame. 

Oh  would  kind  earth  the  hateful  wretch  embrace, 

That  pest  of  Troy,  that  ruin,  of  our  race ! 

Deep  to  the  dark  abyss  might  he  descend, 
355  Troy  yet  should  flourish,  and  my  sorrows  end." 

This  heard,  she  gave  command ;  and  summoned  came 

Each  noble  matron  and  illustrious  dame. 

The  Phrygian  queen  to  her  rich  wardrobe  went, 

Where  treasur'd  odors  breath' d  a  costly  scent. 
360  There  lay  the  vestures  of  no  vulgar  art, 

Sidonian  maids  embroider'd  ev'ry  part, 

Whom  from  soft  Sidon  youthful  Paris  bore, 

With  Helen  touching  on  the  Tyrian  shore. 

Here  as  the  queen  revolv'd  with  careful  eyes 
365  The  various  textures  and  the  various  dyes, 

She  chose  a  veil  that  shone  superior  far, 

And  glow'd  refulgent  as  the  morning  star. 

Herself  with  this  the  long  procession  leads ; 

The  train  majestically  slow  proceeds. 
370  Soon  as  to  Ilion's  topmost  tow'r  they  come, 

And  awful  reach  the  high  Palladian  dome, 

Antenor's  consort,  fair  Theano,  waits 

As  Pallas'  priestess,  and  unbars  the  gates. 

With  hands  uplifted  and  imploring  eyes, 
375  They  fill  the  dome  with  supplicating  cries. 

The  priestess  then  the  shining  veil  displays, 

Plac'd  on  Minerva's  knees,  and  thus  she  prays : 
"  0  awful  goddess  !  ever-dreadful  maid, 

Troy's  strong  defence,  unconquer'd  Pallas,  aid ! 
380  Break  thou  Tydides'  spear,  and  let  him  fall 


BOOK   VI  51 

Prone  on  the  dust  before  the  Trojan  wall. 

So  twelve  young  heifers,  guiltless  of  the  yoke, 

Shall  fill  thy  temple  with  a  grateful  smoke. 

But  thou,  aton'd  by  penitence  and  pray'r, 
385  Ourselves,  our  infants,  and  our  city  spare  ! " 

So  pray'd  the  priestess  in  her  holy  fane : 

So  vow'd  the  matrons,  but  they  vow'd  in  vain. 
While  these  appear  before  the  pow'r  with  pray'rs, 

Hector  to  Paris'  lofty  dome  repairs. 
390  Himself  the  mansion  rais'd,  from  every  part 

Assembling  architects  of  matchless  art. 

Near  Priam's  court  and  Hector's  palace  stands 

The  pompous  structure,  and  the  town  commands. 

A  spear  the  hero  bore  of  wond'rous  strength : 
395  Of  full  ten  cubits  was  the  lance's  length ; 

The  steely  point,  with  golden  ringlets  join'd, 

Before  him  brandish'd,  at  each  motion  shin'd. 

Thus  entring,  in  the  glitt'ring  rooms  he  found 

His  brother-chief,  whose  useless  arms  lay  round, 
400  His  eyes  delighting  with  their  splendid  show, 

Bright'ning  the  shield,  and  polishing  the  bow. 

Beside  him  Helen  with  her  virgins  stands, 

Guides  their  rich  labours,  and  instructs  their  hands, 

Him,  thus  inactive,  with  an  ardent  look 
405  The  prince  beheld,  and  high-resenting  spoke : 

"  Thy  hate  to  Troy  is  this  the  time  to  show 

(0  wretch  ill-fated,  and  thy  country's  foe)  ? 

Paris  and  Greece  against  us  both  conspire, 

Thy  close  resentment,  and  their  vengeful  ire. 
410  For  thee  great  Ilion's  guardian  heroes  fall, 

Till  heaps  of  dead  alone  defend  her  wall ; 

For  thee  the  soldier  bleeds,  the  matron  mourns, 

And  wasteful  war  in  all  its  fury  burns. 

Ungrateful  man !  deserves  not  this  thy  care, 
415  Our  troops  to  hearten  and  our  toils  to  share  ? 


52  THE   ILIAD 

Rise,  or  behold  the  conquering  flames  ascend, 

And  all  the  Phrygian  glories  at  an  end." 

"Brother,  'tis  just"  (replied  the  beauteous  youth)  ; 

"  Thy  free  remonstrance  proves  thy  worth  and  truth : 
420  Yet  charge  my  absence  less,  0  gen'rous  chief, 

On  hate  to  Troy  than  conscious  shame  and  grief : 

Here,  hid  from  human  eyes,  thy  brother  sate, 

And  mourn'd  in  secret  his  and  Ilion's  fate. 

'Tis  now  enough :  now  glory  spreads  her  charms, 
425  And  beauteous  Helen  calls  her  chief  to  arms. 

Conquest  to-day  my  happier  sword  may  bless, 

'Tis  man's  to  fight,  but  heavVs  to  give  success. 

But  while  I  arm,  contain  thy  ardent  mind ; 

Or  go,  and  Paris  shall  not  lag  behind." 
430      He  said,  nor  answer'd  Priam's  warlike  son ; 

When  Helen  thus  with  lowly  grace  begun  : 
"  0  gen'rous  brother !  if  the  guilty  dame 

That  caus'd  these  woes  deserve  a  sister's  name ! 

Would  heav'n,  ere  all  these  dreadful  deeds  were  done, 
435  The  day  that  show'd  me  to  the  golden  sun 

Had  seen  my  death !     Why  did  not  whirlwinds  bear 

The  fatal  infant  to  the  fowls  of  air  ? 

Why  sunk  I  not  beneath  the  whelming  tide, 

And  midst  the  roarings  of  the  waters  died  ? 
440  Heav'n  fill'd  up  all  my  ills,  and  I  accurst 

Bore  all,  and  Paris  of  those  ills  the  worst. 

Helen  at  least  a  braver  spouse  might  claim, 

Warm'd  with  some  virtue,  some  regard  of  fame ! 

Now,  tir'd  with  toils,  thy  fainting  limbs  recline, 
445  With  toils  sustain'd  for  Paris'  sake  and  mine  : 

The  gods  have  link'd  our  miserable  doom, 

Our  present  woe,  and  infamy  to  come : 

Wide  shall  it  spread,  and  last  through  ages  long, 

Example  sad !  and  theme  of  future  song !  " 
450      The  chief  replied :  "  This  time  forbids  to  rest : 


BOOK   VI  53 

The  Trojan  bands,  by  hostile  fury  prest, 

Demand  their  Hector,  and  his  arm  require; 

The  combat  urges,  and  my  soul's  @n  fire. 

Urge  thou  thy  knight  to  inarch  where  glory  calls, 
455  And  timely  join  me,  e'er  I  leave  the  walls. 

E'er  yet  I  mingle  in  the  direful  fray, 

My  wife,  my  infant,  claim  a  moment's  stay ; 

This  day  (perhaps  the  last  that  sees  me  here) 

Demands  a  parting  word,  a  tender  tear : 
4(>o  This  day  some  god  who  hates  our  Trojan  land 

May  vanquish  Hector  by  a  Grecian  hand.7' 
He  said,  and  past  with  sad  presaging  heart 

To  seek  his  spouse,  his  soul's  far  dearer  part ; 

At  home  he  sought  her,  but  he  sought  in  vain : 
465  She,  with  one  maid  of  all  her  menial  train, 

Had  thence  retir'd;  and,  with  her  second  joy, 

The  young  Astyanax,  the  hope  of  Troy, 

Pensive  she  stood  on  Ilion's  tow'ry  height, 

Beheld  the  Avar,  and  sicken'd  at  the  sight ; 
470  There  her  sad  eyes  in  vain  her  lord  explore, 

Or  weep  the  wounds  her  bleeding  country  bore. 
But  he  who  found  not  whom  his  soul  desir'd, 

Whose  virtue  charm'd  him  as  her  beauty  fir'd, 

Stood  in  the  gates,  and  ask'd  what  way  she  bent 
475  Her  parting  steps ;  if  to  the  fane  she  went, 

Where  late  the  mourning  matrons  made  resort, 

Or  sought  her  sisters  in  the  Trojan  court. 

"  Not  to  the  court "  (replied  th7  attendant  train), 

"  Nor,  mix'd  with  matrons,  to  Minerva's  fane : 
480  To  Ilion's  steepy  tow'r  she  bent  her  way, 

To  mark  the  fortunes  of  the  doubtful  day. 

Troy  fled,  she  heard,  before  the  Grecian  sword ; 

She  heard,  and  trembled  for  her  absent  lord : 

Distracted  with  surprise,  she  seern'd  to  fly, 
485  Fear  on  her  cheek  and  sorrow  in  her  eye. 


54  THE   ILIAD 

The  nurse  attended  with  her  infant  boy, 
The  young  Astyanax,  the  hope  of  Troy." 

Hector,  this  heard,  returned  without  delay ; 
Swift  through  the  town  he  trod  his  former  way, 

400  Thro'  streets  of  palaces  and  walks  of  state, 
And  met  the  mourner  at  the  Scsean  gate. 
With  haste  to  meet  him  sprung  the  joyful  fair, 
His  blameless  wife,  Eetion's  wealthy  heir 
(Ciliciaii  Thebe  great  Eetion  sway'd, 

495  And  Hippoplacus'  wide-extended  shade)  : 

The  nurse  stood  near,  in  whose  embraces  prest 
His  only  hope  hung  smiling  at  her  breast, 
Whom  each  soft  charm  and  early  grace  adorn, 
Fair  as  the  new-born  star  that  gilds  the  morn. 

noo  To  this  lov'd  infant  Hector  gave  the  name 

Scamandrius,  from  Scamander's  honour'd  stream; 
Astyanax  the  Trojans  calPd  the  boy, 
From  his  great  father,  the  defence  of  Troy. 
Silent  the  warrior  smiPd,  and  pleas'd,  resigned 

505  To  tender  passions  all  his  mighty  mind : 
His  beauteous  princess  -cast  a  mournful  look, 
Hung  on  his  hand,  and  then  dejected  spoke ; 
Her  bosom  laboured  with  a  boding  sigh, 
And  the  big  tear  stood  trembling  in  her  eye. 

510      "  Too  daring  prince  !  ah  whither  dost  thou  run  ? 
Ah  too  forgetful  of  thy  wife  and  son ! 
And  think'st  thou  not  how  wretched  we  shall  be, 
A  widow  I,  an  helpless  orphan  he ! 
For  sure  such  courage  length  of  life  denies, 

515  And  thou  must  fall,  thy  virtue's  sacrifice. 
Greece  in  her  single  heroes  strove  in  vain ; 
Now  hosts  oppose"  thee,  and  thou  must  be  slain ! 
Oh  grant  me,  gods !  e'er  Hector  meets  his  doom, 
All  I  can  ask  of  heav'n,  an  early  tomb ! 

520  So  shall  my  days  in  one  sad  tenor  ruu; 


BOOK  VI  55 

And  end  with  sorrows  as  they  first  begun.    . 

No  parent  now  remains,  my  griefs  to  share, 

No  father's  aid,  110  mother's  tender  care. 

The  fierce  Achilles  wrapt  our  walls  in  fire, 
525  Laid  Thebe  waste,  and  slew  my  warlike  sire ! 

His  fate  compassion  in  the  victor  bred ; 

Stern  as  he  was,  he  yet  rever'd  the  dead, 

His  radiant  arms  preserved  from  hostile  spoil, 

And  laid  him  decent  on  the  f un'ral  pile ; 
530  Then  rais'd  a  mountain  where  his  bones  were  burn'd : 

The  mountain  nymphs  the  rural  tomb  adorn'd ; 

Jove's  sylvan  daughters  bade  their  elms  bestow 

A  barren  shade,  and  in  his  honour  grow. 

"  By  the  same  arm  my  sev'n  brave  brothers  fell ; 
5o5  In  one  sad  day  beheld  the  gates  of  hell : 

While  the  fat  herds  and  snowy  flocks  they  fed, 

Amid  their  fields  the  hapless  heroes  bled ! 

My  mother  liv'd  to  bear  the  victor's  bands, 

The  queen  of  Hippoplacia's  sylvan  lands : 
540  Eedeem'd  too  late,  she  scarce  beheld  again 

Her  pleasing  empire  and  her  native  plain, 

When,  ah  !  opprest  by  life-consuming  woe, 

She  fell  a  victim  to  Diana's  bow. 

"  Yet  while  my  Hector  still  survives,  I  see 
545  My  father,  mother,  brethren,  all,  in  thee : 

Alas !  my  parents,  brothers,  kindred,  all 

Once  more  will  perish  if  my  Hector  fall. 

Thy  wife,  thy  infant,  in  thy  danger  share : 

Oh  prove  a  husband's  and  a  father's  care ! 
550  That  quarter  most  the  skilful  Greeks  annoy. 

Where  yon'  wild  fig-trees  join  the  wall  of  Troy: 

Thou  from  this  tow'r  defend  th'  important  post. 

There  Agamemnon  points  his  dreadful  host, 

That  pass  Tydides,  Ajax,  strive  to  gain, 
555  And  there  the  vengeful  Spartan  fires  his  train: 


56  THE   ILIAD 

Thrice  our  bold  foes  the  fierce  attack  have  giv'n, 

Or  led  by  hopes,  or  dictated  from  heav'n. 

Let  others  in  the  field  their  arms  employ, 

But  stay  my  Hector  here,  and  guard  his  Troy." 
560      The  chief  replied :  "  That  post  shall  be  my  care, 

Nor  that  alone,  but  all  the  works  of  war. 

How  would  the  sons  of  Troy,  in  arms  renown'd, 

And  Troy's  proud  dames,  whose  garments  sweep  the  ground, 

Attaint  the  lustre  of  my  former  name, 
5G5  Should  Hector  basely  quit  the  field  of  fame  ? 

My  early  youth  was  bred  to  martial  pains, 

My  soul  impels  me  to  th'  embattled  plains : 

Let  me  be  foremost  to  defend  the  throne, 

And  guard  my  father's  glories,  and  my  own. 
570  Yet  come  it  will,  the  day  decreed  by  fates 

(How  my  heart  trembles  while  my  tongue  relates !)  : 

The  day  when  thou,  imperial  Troy  !  must  bend, 

Arid  see  thy  warriors  fall,  thy  glories  end. 

And  yet  no  dire  presage  so  wounds  my  mind, 
575  My  mother's  death,  the  ruin  of  my  kind, 

Not  Priam's  hoary  hairs  defil'd  with  gore, 

Not  all  my  brothers  gasping  on  the  shore, 

As  thine,  Andromache  !  thy  griefs  I  dread : 

I  see  thee  trembling,  weeping,  captive  led ! 
580  In  Argive  looms  our  battles  to  design, 

And  woes  of  which  so  large  a  part  was  thine ! 

To  bear  the  victor's  hard  commands,  or  bring 

The  weight  of  waters  from  Hyperia's  spring. 

There,  while  you  groan  beneath  the  load  of  life, 
585  They  cry,  '  Behold  the  mighty  Hector's  wife  ! ' 

Some  haughty  Greek,  who  lives  thy  tears  to  see, 

Embitters  all  thy  woes  by  naming  me. 

The  thoughts  of  glory  past  and  present  shame, 

A  thousand  griefs,  shall  waken  at  the  name ! 
590  May  I  lie  cold  before  that  dreadful  day, 


BOOK   VI  57 

Pressed  with  a  load  of  monumental  clay ! 

Thy  Hector,  wrapped  in  everlasting  sleep, 

Shall  neither  hear  thee  sigh,  nor  see  thee  weep." 

Thus  having  spoke,  th'  illustrious  chief  of  Troy 
505  Stretch'd  his  fond  arms  to  clasp  the  lovely  boy. 

The  babe  clung  crying  to  his  nurse's  breast, 

Scared  at  the  dazzling  helm  and  nodding  crest. 

With  secret  pleasure  each  fond  parent  smil'd, 

And  Hector  hasted  to  relieve  his  child ; 
GOO  The  glittering  terrors  from  his  brows  unbound, 

And  plac'd  the  beaming  helmet  on  the  ground. 

Then  kiss'd  the  child,  and,  lifting  high  in  air, 

Thus  to  the  gods  pref  er'd  a  father's  pray'r : 

"  0  thou !  whose  glory  fills  th'  ethereal  throne, 
005  And  all  ye  deathless  pow'rs  !  protect  my  son  ! 

Grant  him,  like  me,  to  purchase  just  renown, 

To  guard  the  Trojans,  to  defend  the  crown, 

Against  his  country's  foes  the  war  to  wage, 

And  rise  the  Hector  of  the  future  age ! 
610  So  when,  triumphant  from  successful  toils, 

Of  heroes  slain  he  bears  the  reeking  spoils, 

Whole  hosts  may  hail  him  with  deserv'd  acclaim, 

And  say,  i  This  chief  transcends  his  father's  fame  ' : 

While  pleas'd,  amidst  the  gen'ral  shouts  of  Troy, 
615  His  mother's  conscious  heart  o'erflows  with  joy." 
He  spoke,  and  fondly  gazing  on  her  charms, 

Kestor'd  the  pleasing  burthen  to  her  arms ; 

Soft  on  her  fragrant  breast  the  babe  she  laid, 

Hush'd  to  repose,  and  with  a  smile  survey'd. 
620  The  troubled  pleasure  soon  chastis'd  by  fear, 

She  mingled  with  a  smile  a  tender  tear. 

The  soften'd  chief  with  kind  compassion  view'd, 

And  dried  the  falling  drops,  and  thus  pursued : 

"  Andromache  !  my  soul's  far  better  part, 
625  Why  with  untimely  sorrows  heaves  thy  heart  ? 


58  THE   ILIAD 

No  hostile  hand  can  antedate  my  doom/ 

Till  fate  condemns  me  to  the  silent  tomb. 

Fix'd  is  the  term  to  all  the  race  of  earth, 

And  such  the  hard  condition  of  our  birth. 
630  No  force  can  then  resist,  no  flight  can  save ; 

All  sink  alike,  the  fearful  and  the  brave. 

No  more  —  but  hasten  to  thy  tasks  at  home, 

There  guide  the  spindle,  and  direct  the  loom  : 

Me  glory  summons  to  the  martial  scene, 
635  The  field  of  combat  is  the  sphere  for  men. 

Where  heroes  war,  the  foremost  place  I  claim, 

The  first  in  danger  as  the  first  in  fame." 

Thus  having  said,  the  glorious  chief  resumes 

His  tow'ry  helmet,  black  with  shading  plumes. 
640  His  princess  parts  with  a  prophetic  sigh, 

Unwilling  parts,  and  oft  reverts  her  eye, 

That  streamed  at  ev'ry  look :  then,  moving  slow, 

Sought  her  own  palace,  and  indulg'd  her  woe. 

There,  while  her  tears  deplor'd  the  godlike  man, 
045  Through  all  her  train  the  soft  infection  ran : 

The  pious  maids  their  mingled  sorrows  shed, 

And  mourn  the  living  Hector  as  the  dead. 
But  now,  no  longer  deaf  to  honour's  call, 

Forth  issues  Paris  from  the  palace  wall. 
650  In  brazen  arms  that  cast  a  gleamy  ray, 

Swift  through  the  town  the  warrior  bends  his  way. 

The  wanton  courser  thus,  with  reins  unbound, 

Breaks  from  his  stall,  and  beats  the  trembling  ground ; 

Pamper'd  and  proud,  he  seeks  the  wonted  tides, 
655  And  laves,  in  height  of  blood,  his  shining  sides : 

His  head,  now  freed,  he  tosses  to  the  skies ; 

His  mane  dishevelPd  o'er  his  shoulders  flies ; 

He  snuffs  the  females  in  the  distant  plain, 

And  springs,  exulting,  to  his  fields  again. 
600  With  equal  triumph,  sprightly,  bold,  and  gay, 


BOOK   VI  59 

In  arms  refulgent  as  the  god  of  day, 
The  son  of  Priam,  glorying  in  his  might, 
Kush'd  forth  with  Hector  to  the  fields  of  fight. 
And  now  the  warriors  passing  on  the  way, 

665  The  graceful  Paris  first  excus'd  his  stay. 
To  whom  the  noble  Hector  thus  replied : 
"  0  chief,  in  blood,  and  now  in  arms,  allied  ! 
Thy  pow'r  in  war  with  justice  none  contest ; 
Known  is  thy  courage,  and  thy  strength  confest. 

670  What  pity,  sloth  should  seize  a  soul  so  brave, 
Or  godlike  Paris  live  a  woman's  slave ! 
My  heart  weeps  blood  at  what  the  Trojans  say, 
And  hopes  thy  deeds  shall  wipe  the  stain  away. 
Haste  then,  in  all  their  glorious  labours  share  ; 

675  For  much  they  suffer,  for  thy  sake,  in  war. 

These  ills  shall  cease,  whene'er  by  Jove's  decree 
We  crown  the  bowl  to  Heav'n  and  Liberty : 
While  the  proud  foe  his  frustrate  triumphs  mourns, 
And  Greece  indignant  through  her  seas  returns." 


-BOOK  ^Xl 

Thus  to  their  bulwarks,  smit  with  panic  fear. 
The  herded  Ilians  rush  like  driven  deer ; 
There,  safe,  they  wipe  the  briny  drops  away, 
And  drown  in  bowls  the  labours  of  the  day. 
5  Close  to  the  walls,  advancing  o'er  the  fields 
Beneath  one  roof  of  well-compacted  shields, 
March,  bending  on,  the  Greeks'  embodied  pow'rs,- 
Far-stretching  in  the  shade  of  Trojan  tow'rs. 
Great  Hector  singly  stay'd ;  chain'd  down  by  fate^ 

10  There  fixt  he  stood  before  the  Scsean  gate, 
Still  his  bold  arms  determin'd  to  employ, 
The  guardian  still  of  long-defended  Troy. 
/  Apollo  now  to  tir'd  Achilles  turns 
(The  power  confest  in  all  his  glory  burns), 

15  "And  what"  (he  cries)  "  has  Peleus'  son  in  view, 
With  mortal  speed  a  godhead  to  pursue  ? 
For  not  to  thee  to  know  the  gods  is  giv'n, 
UnskilPd  to  trace  the  latent  marks  of  heav'n. 
What  boots  thee  now  that  Troy  forsook  the  plain  ? 

20  Vain  thy  past  labour,  and  thy  present  vain : 
Safe  in  their  walls  are  now  her  troops  bestow'd, 
While  here  thy  frantic  rage  attacks  a  god." 

The  chief  incens'd  :  "  Too  partial  god  of  day  ! 
To  check  my  conquests  in  the  middle  way : 

25  How  few  in  Ilion  else  had  refuge  found ! 

What  gasping  numbers  now  had  bit  the  ground ! 
Thou  rob'st  me  of  a  glory  justly  mine, 
Pow'rful  of  Godhead  and  of  fraud  divine : 
Mean  fame,  alas  !  for  one  of  heav'nly  strain, 

so  To  cheat  a  mortal  who  repines  in  vain." 

60 


BOOK   XXII  61 

Then  to  the  city,  terrible  and  strong, 

With  high  and  haughty  steps  he  tow Vd  along : 

So  the  proud  courser,  victor  of  the  prize, 

To  the  near  goal  with  doubled  ardor  flies. 
35  Him,  as  he  blazing  shot  across  the  field, 

The  careful  eyes  of  Priam  first  beheld. 

Not  half  so  dreadful  rises  to  the  sight, 

Through  the  thick  gloom  of  some  tempestuous  night, 

Orion's  dog  (the  year  when  autumn  weighs), 
40  And  o'er  the  feebler  stars  exerts  his  rays ; 

Terrific  glory  !  for  his  burning  breath 

Taints  the  red  air  with  fevers,  plagues,  and  death. 

So  flam'd  his  fiery  mail.     Then  wept  the  sage  ; 

He  strikes  his  rev'rend  head,  now  white  with  age ; 
45  He  lifts  his  withered  arms ;  obtests  the  skies  ; 

He  calls  his  much-lov'd  son  with  feeble  cries. 

The  son,  resolv'd  Achilles'  force  to  dare, 

Full  at  the  Scaean  gates  expects  the  war, 

While  the  sad  father  on  the  rampart  stands, 
50  And  thus  abjures  him  with  extended  hands  : 
"  Ah  stay  not,  stay  not !  guardless  and  alone ; 

Hector,  my  lov'd,  my  dearest,  bravest  son ! 

Methinks  already  I  behold  thee  slain, 

And  stretch'd  beneath  that  fury  of  the  plain. 
55  Implacable  Achilles  !  might'st  thou  be 

To  all  the  gods  no  dearer  than  to  me ! 

Thee  vultures  wild  should  scatter  round  the  shore, 

And  bloody  dogs  grow  fiercer  from  thy  gore ! 

How  many  valiant  sons  I  late  enjoy'd, 
GO  Valiant  in  vain !  by  thy  curst  arm  destroyed  : 

Or,  worse  than  slaughtered,  sold  in  distant  isles 

To  shameful  bondage  and  unworthy  toils. 

Two,  while  I  speak,  my  eyes  in  vain  explore, 

Two  from  one  mother  sprung,  my  Polydore 
05  And  loved  Lycaon ;  now  perhaps  no  more  ! 


62  THE   ILIAD 

Oli !  if  in  yonder  hostile  camp  they  live, 
What  heaps  of  gold,  what  treasures  would  I  give 
(Their  grandsire's  wealth,  by  right  of  birth  their  own, 
Consign'd  his  daughter  with  Lelegia's  throne)  ! 

70  But  if  (which  heav'n  forbid)  already  lost, 
All  pale  they  wander  on  the  Stygian  coast, 
What  sorrows  then  must  their  sad  mother  know, 
What  anguish  I !  unutterable  woe  ! 
Yet  less  that  anguish,  less  to  her,  to  me, 

75  Less  to  all  Troy,  if  not  deprived  of  thee. 
Yet  shun  Achilles  !  enter  yet  the  wall ; 
And  spare  thyself,  thy  father,  spare  us  all ! 
Save  thy  dear  life :  or  if  a  soul  so  brave 
Neglect  that  thought,  thy  dearer  glory  save. 

80  Pity,  while  yet  I  live,  these  silver  hairs ; 
While  yet  thy  father  feels  the  woes  he  bears, 
Yet  curst  with  sense !  a  wretch,  whom  in  his  rage 
(All  trembling  on  the  verge  of  helpless  age) 
Great  Jove  has  plac'd,  sad  spectacle  of  pain ! 

85  The  bitter  dregs  of  fortune's  cup  to  drain : 
To  fill  with  scenes  of  death  his  closing  eyes, 
And  number  all  his  days  by  miseries ! 
My  heroes  slain,  my  bridal  bed  o'erturn'd, 
My  daughters  ravish'd,  and  my  city  burn'd, 

90  My  bleeding  infants  dash'd  against  the  floor,  — 
These  I  have  yet  to  see,  perhaps  yet  more ! 
Perhaps  ev'n  I,  reserved  by  angry  fate 
The  last  sad  relic  of  my  ruin'd  state 
(Dire  pomp  of  sovereign  wretchedness),  must  fall 

95  And  stain  the  pavement  of  my  regal  hall, 

Where  famish'd  dogs,  late  guardians  of  my  door, 
Shall  lick  their  mangled  master's  spatter'd  gore. 
Yet  for  my  sons  I  thank  ye,  gods !  'twas  well : 
Well  have  they  perish'd,  for  in  fight  they  fell. 
100  Who  dies  in  youth  and  vigor  dies  the  best, 


BOOK   XXII  63 

VW 

Struck  through  with  wounds,  all  honest  on  the  breast. 

But  when  the  fates,  in  fullness  of  their  rage, 

Spurn  the  hoar  head  of  unresisting  age, 

In  dust  the  rev'rend  lineaments  deform, 
105  And  pour  to  dogs  the  life-blood  scarcely  warm ; 

This,  this  is  misery  !  the  last,  the  worst, 

That  man  can  feel,  man,  fated  to  be  curst !  " 
He  said,  and  acting  what  no  words  could  say, 

Rent  from  his  head  the  silver  locks  away. 
110  With  him  the  mournful  mother  bears  a  part ; 

Yet  all  their  sorrows  turn  not  Hector's  heart : 

The  zone  unbrac'd,  her  bosom  she  displayed ; 

And  thus,  fast-falling  the  salt  tears,  she  said : 

"  Have  mercy  on  me,  0  my  son !  revere 
115  The  words  of  age  ;  attend  a  parent's  pray'r ! 

If  ever  thee  in  these  fond  arms  I  prest, 

Or  still'd  thy  infant  clamours  at  this  breast, 

Ah  !  do  not  thus  our  helpless  years  forego, 

But,  by  our  walls  secur'd,  repel  the  foe. 
120  Against  his  rage  if  singly  thou  proceed, 

Shouldst  thou  (but  heav'n  avert  it !)  shouldst  thou  bleed, 

Nor  must  thy  corse  lie  honoured  on  the  bier, 

Nor  spouse,  nor  mother,  grace  thee  with  a  tear ; 

Far  from  our  pious  rites,  those  dear  remains 
125  Must  feast  the  vultures  on  the  naked  plains." 

So  they,  while  down  their  cheeks  the  torrents  roll : 

But  fix'd  remains  the  purpose  of  his  soul ; 

Resolv'd  he  stands,  and  with  a  fiery  glance 

Expects  the  hero's  terrible  advance. 
130  So,  roll'd  up  in  his  den,  the  swelling  snake 

Beholds  the  traveller  approach  the  brake, 

When,  fed  with  noxious  herbs,  his  turgid  veins 

Have  gather'd  half  the  poisons  of  the  plains ; 

He  burns,  he  stiffens  with  collected  ire, 
135  And  his  red  eye-balls  glare  with  living  fire. 


385 


64  THE   ILIAD 

Beneath  a  turret,  on  his  shield  reclin'd, 

He  stood,  and  question'd  thus  his  mighty  mind  : 

"  Where  lies  my  way  ?  to  enter  in  the  wall  ? 
Honour  and  shame  th'  ungen'rous  thought  recall : 

140  Shall  proud  Polydamas  before  the  gate 
Proclaim,  his  counsels  are  obeyed  too  late, 
Which  timely  .folio wM  but  the  former  night, 
What  numbers  had  been  saved  by  Hector's  flight  ? 
That  wise  advice  rejected  with  disdain, 

145  I  feel  my  folly  in  my  people  slain. 

Methinks  my  suffering  country's  voice  I  hear  ; 
But  most  her  worthless  sons  insult  my  ear, 
On  my  rash  courage  charge  the  chance  of  war, 
And  blame  those  virtues  which  they  cannot  share. 

150  No !     If  I  e'er  return,  return  I  must 

Glorious,  my  country's  terror  laid  in  dust : 
Or  if  I  perish,  let  her  see  my  fall 
In  field  at  least,  and  fighting  for  her  wall. 
And  yet  suppose  these  measures  I  forego, 

155  Approach  unarm'd,  and  parly  with  the  foe, 

The  warrior-shield,  the  helm,  and  lance  lay  down, 
And  treat  on  terms  of  peace  to  save  the  town : 
The  wife  withheld,  the  treasure  ill-detain'd 
(Cause  of  the  war  and  grievance  of  the  land), 

IGO  With  honourable  justice  to  restore  ; 

And  add  half  Ilion's  yet  remaining  store, 
Which  Troy  shall,  sworn,  produce;  that  injur'd  Greece 
May  share  our  wealth,  and  leave  our  walls  in  peace. 
But  why  this  thought  ?     Unarm'd  if  I  should  go, 

165  What  hope  of  mercy  from  this  vengeful  foe, 

But  woman-like  to  fall,  and  fall  without  a  blow  ? 
We  greet  not  here  as  man  conversing  man, 
Met  at  an  oak  or  journeying  o'er  a  plain ; 
No  season  now  for  calm,  familiar  talk, 

170  Like  youths  and  maidens  in  an  ev'ning  walk : 


BOOK  XXII  65 

War  is  our  business,  but  to  whom  is  giv'n 
To  die  or  triumph,  that  determine  heav'n  ! " 

Thus  pond'ring,  like  a  god  the  Greek  drew  nigh  :.-,-< 
His  dreadful  plumage  nodded  from  on  high ; 

175  The  Pelian  jav'lin,  in  his  better  hand. 

Shot  trembling  rays  that  glitter'd  o'er  the  land ; 
And  on  his  breast  the  beamy  splendors  shone 
Like  Jove's  own  lightning,  or  the  rising  sun. 
As  Hector  sees,  unusual  terrors  rise, 

180  Struck  by  some  god,  he  fears,  recedes,  and  flies. 
He  leaves  the  gates,  he  leaves  the  walls  behind ; 
Achilles  follows  like  the  winged  wind. 
Thus  at  the  panting  dove  a  falcon  flies 
(The  swiftest  racer  of  the  liquid  skies), 

185  Just  when  he  holds,  or  thinks  he  holds,  his  prey, 
Obliquely  wheeling  through  th'  aerial  way, 
With  open  beak  and  shrilling  cries  he  springs, 
And  aims  his  claws,  and  shoots  upon  his  wings : 
No  less  fore-right  the  rapid  chase  they  held, 

UK)  One  urg'd  by  fury,  one  by  fear  impell'd ; 

Now  circling  round  the  walls  their  course  maintain, 
Where  the  high  watch-tow'r  overlooks  the  plain ; 
Now  where  the  fig-trees  spread  their  umbrage  broad 
(A  wider  compass),  smoke  along  the  road. 

195  Next  by  Scamander's  double  source  they  bound, 
Where  two  fam'd  fountains  burst  the  parted  ground : 
This  hot  through  scorching  clefts  is  seen  to  rise, 
With  exhalations  steaming  to  the  skies ; 
That  the  green  banks  in  summer's  heat  o'erflows, 

200  Like  crystal  clear,  and  cold  as  winter  snows. 
Each  gushing  fount  a  marble  cistern  fills, 
Whose  polish'd  bed  receives  the  falling  rills; 
Where  Trojan  dames  (e'er  yet  alarm'd  by  Greece) 
Wash'd  their  fair  garments  in  the  days  of  peace. 

205  By  these  they  past,  one  chasing,  one  in  flight 


66  THE   ILIAD 

(The  mighty  fled,  pursued  by  stronger  might) ; 
Swift  was  the  course ;  no  vulgar  prize  they  play, 
No  vulgar  victim  must  reward  the  day 
(Such  as  in  races  crown  the  speedy  strife)  : 

210  The  prize  contended  was  great  Hector's  life. 
As  when  some  hero's  fun'rals  are  decreed, 
In  grateful  honour  of  the  mighty  dead, 
Where  high  rewards  the  vig'rous  youth  inflame 
(Some  golden  tripod  or  some  lovely  dame), 

215  The  panting  coursers  swiftly  turn  the  goal, 
And  with  them  turns  the  rais'd  spectator's  soul : 
Thus  three  times  round  the  Trojan  wall  they  fly ; 
Th,e  gazing  gods  lean  forward  from  the  sky : 
To  whom,  while  eager  on  the  chase  they  look, 

220  The  sire  of  mortals  and  immortals  spoke : 

"  Unworthy  sight !  the  man  belov'd  of  heav'n, 
Behold,  inglorious  round  yon'  city  driv'n ! 
My  heart  partakes  the  gen'rous  Hector's  pain ; 
Hector,  whose  zeal  whole  hecatombs  has  slain, 

225  Whose  grateful  fumes  the  gods  receiv'd  with  joy, 
From  Ida's  summits  and  the  towers  of  Troy : 
Now  see  him  flying !  to  his  fears  resign'd, 
And  Fate  and  fierce  Achilles  close  behind. 
Consult,  ye  pow'rs  ('tis  worthy  your  debate) 

230  Whether  to  snatch  him  from  impending  fate, 
Or  let  him  bear,  by  stern  Pelides  slain 
(Good  as  he  is),  the  lot  impos'd  on  man  ?  " 

Then  Pallas  thus  :  "  Shall  he  whose  vengeance  forms 
The  forky  bolt,  and  blackens  heav'n  with  storms, 

235  Shall  he  prolong  one  Trojan's  forfeit  breath ! 
A  man,  a  mortal,  pre-ordain'd  to  death ! 
And  will  no  murmurs  fill  the  courts  above, 
No  gods  indignant  blame  their  partial  Jove  ?  " 
"  G-o  then  "  (return'd  the.  sire),  "  without  delay ; 

240  Exert  thy  will :  I  give  the  fates  their  way." 


BOOK  XXII  67 

Swift  at  the  mandate  pleas'd  Tritonia  flies. 
And  stoops  impetuous  from  the  cleaving  skies. 

As  thro7  the  forest,  o'er  the  vale  and  lawn, 
The  well-breath' d  beagle  drives  the  flying  fawn : 

245  In  vain  he  tries  the  covert  of  the  brakes, 

Or  deep  beneath  the  trembling  thicket  shakes : 
Sure  of  the  vapour  in  the  tainted  dews, 
The  certain  hound  his  various  maze  pursues. 
Thus  step  by  step,  where'er  the  Trojan  wheePd, 

250  There  swift  Achilles  compass'd  round  the  field. 
Oft7  as  to  reach  the  Dardan  gates  he  bends, 
And  hopes  th'  assistance  of  his  pitying  friends 
(Whose  show'ring  arrows,  as  he  cours'd  below, 
From  the  high  turrets  might  oppress  the  foe), 

255  So  oft'  Achilles  turns  him  to  the  plain : 
He  eyes  the  city,  but  he  eyes  in  vain. 
As  men  in  slumbers  seem  with  speedy  pace 
One  to  pursue  and  one  to  lead  the  chase, 
Their  sinking  limbs  the  fancied  course  forsake, 

200  1ST  or  this  can  fly,  nor  that  can  overtake  : 
No  less  the  laboring  heroes  pant  and  strain, 
While  that  but  flies,  and  this  pursues,  in  vain. 
What  god,  0  Muse !  assisted  Hector's  force, 
With  fate  itself  so  long  to  hold  the  course  ? 

265  Phoebus  it  was :  who,  in  his  latest  hour, 

Endu'd  his  knees  with  strength,  his  nerves  with  pow'r. 
And  great  Achilles,  lest  some  Greek's  advance 
Should  snatch  the  glory  from  his  lifted  lance, 
Sign'd  to  the  troops  to  yield  his  foe  the  way, 

270  And  leave  untouch'd  the  honours  of  the  day. 

Jove  lifts  the  golden  balances,  that  show 
The  fates  of  mortal  men  and  things  below  : 
Here  each  contending  hero's  lot  he  tries, 
And  weighs,  with  equal  hand,  their  destinies. 

275  Low  sinks  the  scale  surcharged  with  Hector's  fate ; 


08  THE    ILIAD 

Heavy  with  death  it  sinks,  and  hell  receives  the 

weight. 

Then  Phoebus  left  him.     Fierce  Minerva  flies 
To  stern  Pelides,  and,  triumphing,  cries : 
"  0  lov'd  of  Jove !  this  day  our  labours  cease, 

280  And  conquest  blazes  with  full  beams  on  Greece. 
Great  Hector  falls ;  that  Hector,  fam'd  so  far, 
Drunk  with  renown,  insatiable  of  war, 
Falls  by  thy  hand,  and  mine !  nor  force  nor  flight 
Shall  more  avail  him  nor  his  god  of  light. 

285  See,  where  in  vain  he  supplicates  above, 
Koll'd  at  the  feet  of  unrelenting  Jove ! 
Eest  here :  myself  will  lead  the  Trojan  on, 
And  urge  to  meet  the  fate  he  cannot  shun." 
Her  voice  divine  the  chief  with  joyful  mind 

290  Obeyed,  and  rested,  on  his  lance  reclin'd, 
While  like  De'iphobus  the  martial  dame 
(Her  face,  her  gesture,  and  her  arms  the  same), 
In  show  an  aid,  by  hapless  Hector's  side 
Approach7 d,  and  greets  him  thus  with  voice  belied : 

295      "  Too  long,  '0  Hector  !  have  I  borne  the  sight 
Of  this  distress,  and  sorrowed  in  thy  flight  : 
It  fits  us  now  a  noble  stand  to  make, 
And  here,  as  brothers,  equal  fates  partake." 

Then  he  :   "0  prince  !  allied  in  blood  and  fame, 

300  Dearer  than  all  that  own  a  brother's  name ; 
Of  all  that  Hecuba  to  Priam  bore, 

Long  tried,  long  lov'd ;  much  lov'd,  but  honoured  more ! 
Since  you,  of  all  our  numerous  race,  alone 
Defend  my  life,  regardless  of  your  own." 

305      Again  the  goddess  :  "  Much  my  father's  pray'r, 
And  much  my  mother's,  prest  me  to  forbear : 
My  friends  embrac'd  my  knees,  adjur'd  my  stay, 
But  stronger  love  impell'd,  and  I  obey. 
Come,  then,  the  glorious  conflict  let  us  try, 


BOOK   XXII  69 

310  Let  the  steel  sparkle  and  the  jav'lin  fly  ; 

Or  let  us  stretch  Achilles  on  the  field, 

Or  to  his  arm  our  bloody  trophies  yield." 

Fraudful  she  said  ;  then  swiftly  march'd  before  ; 

The  Dardan  hero  shuns  his  foe  no  more. 
315  Sternly  they  met.     The  silence  Hector  broke  ; 

His  dreadful  plumage  nodded  as  he  spoke  : 
"  Enough,  0  son  of  Peleus  !  Troy  has  view'd 

Her  walls  thrice  circled,  and  her  chief  pursu'd. 

But  now  some  god  within  me  bids  me  try 
3420  Thine  or  my  fate :  I  kill  thee,  or  I  die. 

Yet  on  the  verge  of  battle  let  us  stay, 

And  for  a  moment's  space  suspend  the  day  : 

Let  heavVs  high  pow'rs  be  call'd  to  arbitrate 

The  just  conditions  of  this  stern  debate. 
325  (Eternal  witnesses  of  all  below, 

And  faithful  guardians  of  the  treasured  vow !) 

To  them  I  swear  :  if,  victor  in  the  strife, 

Jove  by  these  hands  shall  shed  thy  noble  life, 

No  vile  dishonour  shall  thy  corse  pursue ; 
•°>30  Stripped  of  its  arms  alone  (the  conqu'ror's  due), 

The  rest  to  Greece  uninjured  I'll  restore  : 

Now  plight  thy  mutual  oath,  I  ask  no  more." 
u  Talk  not  of  oaths  "  (the  dreadful  chief  replies, 

While  anger  flashed  from  his  disdainful  eyes), 
335  «  Detested  as  thou  art  and  ought  to  be, 

Nor  oath  nor  pact  Achilles  plights  with  thee ; 

Such  pacts  as  lambs  and  rabid  wolves  combine, 

Such  leagues  as  men  and  furious  lions  join, 

To  such  I  call  the  gods  !  one  constant  state 
340  Of  lasting  rancour  and  eternal  hate : 

No  thought  but  rage  and  never-ceasing  strife, 

Till  death  extinguish  rage,  and  thought,  and  life. 

Rouse  then  thy  forces  this  important  hour, 

Collect  thy,  soul,  and  call  forth  all  thy  pow'r. 


70  THE   ILIAD 

845  No  farther  subterfuge,  no  farther  chance ; 
'Tis  Pallas,  Pallas  gives  thee  to  my  lance. 
Each  Grecian  ghost  by  thee  deprived  of  breath, 
Now  hovers  round,  and  calls  thee  to  thy  death." 
He  spoke,  and  lanch'd  his  jav'lin  at  the  foe ; 

350  But  Hector  shun'd  the  meditated  blow ; 

He  stoop'd,  while  o'er  his  head  the  flying  spear 
Sung  innocent,  and  spent  its  force  in  air. 
Minerva  watch' d  it  falling  on  the  land, 
Then  drew,  and  gave  to  great  Achilles'  hand, 

355  Unseen  of  Hector,  who,  elate  with  joy, 

Now  shakes  his  lance,  and  braves  the  dread  of  Troy. 

"  The  life  you  boasted  to  that  jav'lin  giv'n, 
Prince !  you  have  mist.     My  fate  depends  on  heav'n. 
To  thee  (presumptuous  as  thou  art)  unknown 

360  Or  what  must  prove  my  fortune  or  thy  own. 
Boasting  is  but  an  art,  our  fears  to  blind, 
And  with  false  terrors  sink  another's  mind. 
But  know,  whatever  fate  I  am  to  try, 
By  no  dishonest  wound  shall  Hector  die ; 

3r>5  I  shall  not  fall  a  fugitive  at  least, 

My  soul  shall  bravely  issue  from  my  breast. 
But  first,  try  thou  my  arm ;  and  may  this  dart 
End  all  my  country's  woes,  deep  buried  in  thy  heart ! 
The  weapon  flew,  its  course  unerring  held ; 

370  Unerring,  but  the  heav'nly  shield  repell'd 
The  mortal  dart ;  resulting  with  a  bound 
From  off  the  ringing  orb,  it  struck  the  ground. 
Hector  beheld  his  jav'lin  fall  in  vain, 
Nor  other  lance  nor  other  hope  remain ; 

375  He  calls  Dei'phobus,  demands  a  spear, 
In  vain,  for  no  Dei'phobus  was  there. 
All  comfortless  he  stands  :  then  with  a  sigh : 
"  'Tis  so  —  heaven  wills  it,  and  my  hour  is  nigh  ! 
I  deem'd  De'iphobus  had  heard  my  call, 


BOOK   XXII  71 

380  But  he  secure  lies  guarded  in  the  wall. 

A  god  deceived  me  ;  Pallas,  'twas  thy  deed. 

Death  and  black  fate  approach !    'Tis  I  must  bleed. 

No  refuge  now,  no  succour  from  above, 

Great  Jove  deserts  me,  and  the  son  of  Jove, 
385  Propitious  once  and  kind  !    Then  welcome  fate ! 

'Tis  true  I  perish,  yet  I  perish  great : 

Yet  in  a  mighty  deed  I  shall  expire, 

Let  future  ages  hear  it,  and  admire !  " 

Fierce,  at  the  word,  his  weighty  sword  he  drew, 
390  And,  all  collected,  on  Achilles  flew. 

So  Jove's  bold  bird,  high-balanc'd  in  the  air, 

Stoops  from  the  clouds  to  truss  the  quiv'ring  hare. 

Nor  less  Achilles  his  fierce  soul  prepares ; 

Before  his  breast  the  flaming  shield  he  bears, 
3<J5  Refulgent  orb !     Above  his  fourfold  cone 

The  gilded  horsehair  sparkled  in  the  sun, 

Nodding  at  ev'ry  step  (Vulcauian  frame !)  ; 

And  as  he  mov'd,  his  figure  seem'd  on  flame. 

As  radiant  Hesper  shines  with  keener  light, 
400  Far-beaming  o'er  the  silver  host  of  night, 

When  all  the  starry  train  emblaze  the  sphere : 

So  shone  the  point  of  great  Achilles'  spear. 

In  his  right  hand  he  waves  the  weapon  round, 

Eyes  the  whole  man,  and  meditates  the  wound ; 
405  But  the  rich  mail  Patroclus  lately  wore 

Securely  cas'd  the  warrior's  body  o'er. 

One  place  at  length  he  spies,  to  let  in  fate, 

Where  'twixt  the  neck  and  throat  the  jointed  plate 

Gave  entrance :  through  that  penetrable  part 
410  Furious  he  drove  the  well-directed  dart : 

Nor  pierc'd  the  windpipe  yet,  nor  took  the  pow'r 

Of  speech,  unhappy  !  from  thy  dying  hour. 

•Prone  on  the  field  the  bleeding  warrior  lies, 

While  thus,  triumphing,  stern  Achilles  cries : 


72  ,  THE   ILIAD 

415      "  At  last  is  Hector  stretch7  d  upon  the  plain, 

Who  f ear'd  no  vengeance  for  Patroclus  slain  : 

Then,  prince  !  you  should  have  f  ear'd  what  now  you  feel ; 

Achilles  absent  was  Achilles  still. 

Yet  a  short  space  the  great  avenger  stay'd, 
420  Then  low  in  dust  thy  strength  and  glory  laid. 

Peaceful  he  sleeps,  with  all  our  rites  adorn'd, 

For  ever  honoured,  and  for  ever  mourn'd ; 

While,  cast  to  all  the  rage  of  hostile  pow'r, 

Thee  birds  shall  mangle  and  the  dogs  devour.77 
425      Then  Hector,  fainting  at  th7  approach  of  death : 

"  By  thy  own  soul !  by  those  who  gave  thee  breath ! 

By  all  the  sacred  prevalence  of  pray'r ; 

Ah,  leave  me  not  for  Grecian  dogs  to  tear ! 

The  common  rites  of  sepulture  bestow, 
430  To  sooth  a  fathers  and  a  mothers  woe ; 

Let  their  large  gifts  procure  an  urn  at  least, 

And  Hector7s  ashes  in  his  country  rest.77 
"  No,  wretch  accurst ! "  relentless  he  replies 

(Flames,  as  he  spoke,  shot  flashing  from  his  eyes), 
435  "  Not  those  who  gave  me  breath,  shou7d  bid  me  spare, 

Nor  all  the  sacred  prevalence  of  pray'r. 

Could  I  myself  the  bloody  banquet  join ! 

No !  to  the  dogs  that  carcase  I  resign. 

Should  Troy  to  bribe  me  bring  forth  all  her  store, 
440  And,  giving  thousands,  offer  thousands  more ; 

Should  Dardan  Priam  and  his  weeping  dame 

Drain  their  whole  realm  to  buy  one  f  tin'ral  flame ; 

Their  Hector  on  the  pile  they  should  not  see, 

Nor  rob  the  vultures  of  one  limb  of  thee.77 
445      Then  thus  the  chief  his  dying  accents  drew : 

"  Thy  rage,  implacable  !  too  well  I  knew  : 

The  furies  that  relentless  breast  have  steel'd, 

And  curs'd  thee  with  a  heart  that  cannot  yield. 

Yet  think,  a  day  will  come,  when  fate7s  decree, 


BOOK   XXII  73 

450  And  angry  gods,  shall  wreak  this  wrong  on  thee ; 

PlKjebus  and  Paris  shall  avenge  my  fate, 

And  stretch  thee  here,  before  this  Scsean  gate." 

He  ceas'd.     The  fates  suppress'd  his  laboring  breath, 

And  his  eyes  stiffened  at  the  hand  of  death ; 
455  To  the  dark  realm  the  spirit  wings  its  way 

(The  manly  body  left  a  load  of  clay), 

And  plaintive  glides  along  the  dreary  coast, 

A  naked,  wand  ring,  melancholy  ghost! 
Achilles,  musing  as  he  rolPd  his  eyes 
400  O'er  the  dead  hero,  thus  (unheard)  replies  : 

"Die  thou  the  first!  when  Jove  and  heav'ii  ordain, 

I  follow  thee."-  — He  said,  and  stripped  the  slain. 

Then,  forcing  backward  from  the  gaping  wound 

The  reeking  jav'lin,  cast  it  on  the  ground. 
465  The  thronging  Greeks  behold  with  wond'ring  eyes 

His  manly  beauty  and  superior  size : 

While  some,  ignobler,  the  great  dead  deface 

With  wounds  ungen'rous  or  with  taunts  disgrace : 

"  How  chang'd  that  Hector  who,  like  Jove,  of  late 
470  Sent  lightning  on  our  fleets,  and  scattered  fate  !  " 
High  o'er  the  slain  the  great  Achilles  stands, 

Begirt  with  heroes  and  surrounding  bands  ; 

And  thus  aloud,  while  all  the  host  attends : 

"Princes  and  leaders  !  countrymen  and  friends  ! 
475  Since  now  at  length  the  pow'rful  will  of  heav'n 

The  dire  destroyer  to  our  arm  has  giv'n, 

Is  not  Troy  fall'n  already  ?     Haste,  ye  pow'rs  ! 

See  if  already  their  deserted  tow'rs 

Are  left  unmanned ;  or  if  they  yet  retain 
480  The  souls  of  heroes,  their  great  Hector  slain. 

But  what  is  Troy,  or  glory  what  to  me  ? 

Or  why  reflects  my  mind  on  aught  but  thee, 

Divine  Patroclus !     Death  has  seaPd  his  eyes  : 

Unwept,  unhonour'd,  uninterr'd  he  lies ! 


74  THE   ILIAD 

485  Can  his  dear  image  from  my  soul  depart, 
Long  as  the  vital  spirit  moves  my  heart? 
If,  in  the  melancholy  shades  below, 
The  flames  of  friends  and  lovers  cease  to  glow, 
Yet  mine  shall  sacred  last;  mine,  undecay'd, 

490  Burn  011  through  death  and  animate  my  shade. 
Meanwhile,  ye  sons  of  Greece !  in  triumph  bring 
The  corpse  of  Hector,  and  your  Paeans  sing. 
Be  this  the  song,  slow  moving  tow'rd  the  shore, 
'  Hector  is  dead,  and  Dion  is  no  more.' " 

195      Then  his  fell  soul  a  thought  of  vengeance  bred 
(Unworthy  of  himself  and  of  the  dead)  : 
The  nervous  ancles  bor'd,  his  feet  he  bound 
With  thongs  inserted  thro'  the  double  wound ; 
These  fix'd  up  high  behind  the  rolling  wain, 

500  His  graceful  head  was  trail'd  along  the  plain. 
Proud  on  his  car  th'  insulting  victor  stood, 
And  bore  aloft  his  arms,  distilling  blood. 
He  smites  the  steeds ;  the  rapid  chariot  flies ; 
The  sudden  clouds  of  circling  dust  arise. 

505  Now  lost  is-  all  that  formidable  air ; 

The  face  divine  and  long-descending  hair 
Purple  the  ground,  and  streak  the  sable  sand ; 
Deform 'd,  dishonoured,  in  his  native  land  ! 
Giv'n  to  the  rage  of  an  insulting  throng ! 

510  And,  in  his  parents'  sight,' now  dragg'd  along  ! 

The  mother  first  beheld  with  sad  survey ; 
She  rent  her  tresses,  venerably  grey, 
And  cast  far  off  the  regal  veils  away. 
With  piercing  shrieks  his  bitter  fate  she  moans, 

515  While  the  sad  father  answers  groans  with  groans ; 
Tears  after  tears  his  mournful  cheeks  overflow, 
And  the  whole  city  wears  one  face  of  woe : 
No  less  than  if  the  rage  of  hostile  fires, 
From  her  foundations  curling  to  her  spires, 


BOOK   XXII  75 

520  O'er  the  proud  citadel  at  length  should  rise, 

And  the  last  blaze  send  Ilion  to  the  skies. 

The  wretched  monarch  of  the  falling  state, 

Distracted,  presses  to  the  Dardan  gate. 

Scarce  the  whole  people  stop  his  desp'rate  course, 
525  While  strong  affliction  gives  the  feeble  force : 

Grief  tears  his  heart,  and  drives  him  to  and  fro 

In  all  the  raging  impotence  of  woe. 

At  length  he  rolPd  in  dust,  and  thus  begun, 

Imploring  all,  and  naming  one  by  one : 
530  "  Ah !  let  me,  let  me  go  where  sorrow  calls ; 

I,  only  I,  will  issue  from  your  walls 

(Guide  or  companion,  friends !  I  ask  ye  none), 

And  bow  before  the  murd'rer  of  my  son. 

My  grief  perhaps  his  pity  may  engage ; 
535  Perhaps  at  least  he  may  respect  my  age. 

He  has  a  father  too ;  a  man  like  me ; 

One  not  exempt  from  age  and  misery 

(Vigorous  no  more,  as  when  his  young  embrace 

Begot  this  pest  of  me  and  all  my  race). 
540  How  many  valiant  sons,  in  early  bloom, 

Has  that  curst  hand  sent  headlong  to  the  tomb ! 

Thee,  Hector  !  last :  thy  loss  (divinely  brave  !) 

Sinks  my  sad  soul  with  sorrow  to  the  grave. 

Oh  had  thy  gentle  spirit  passed  in  peace, 
545  The  son  expiring  in  the  sire's  embrace, 

While  both  thy  parents  wept  thy  fatal  hour, 

And,  bending  o'er  thee,  mix'd  the  tender  show'r ! 

Some  comfort  that  had  been,  some  sad  relief, 

To  melt  in  full  satiety  of  grief !  " 
550      Thus  wail'd  the  father,  grov'ling  on  the  ground, 

And  all  the  eyes  of  Ilion  streamed  around. 
Amidst  her  matrons  Hecuba  appears 

(A  mourning  princess,  and  a  train  in  tears)  : 

"  Ah !  why  has  heaven  prolonged  this  hated  breath, 


76  THE    ILIAD 

555  Patient  of  horrors,  to  behold  thy  death  ? 
0  Hector  !  late  thy  parents'  pride  and  joy, 
The  boast  of  nations !  the  defence  of  Troy ! 
To  whom  her  safety  and  her  fame  she  ow'd, 
Her  chief,  her  hero,  arid  almost  her  god ! 

500  0  fatal  change !  become  in  one  sad  day 
A  senseless  corpse  !  inanimated  clay  !  " 

But  not  as  yet  the  fatal  news  had  spread 
To  fair  Andromache,  of  Hector  dead ; 
As  yet  no  messenger  had  told  his  fate, 

565  Nor  ev'n  his  stay  without  the  Scaean  gate. 
Far  in  the  close  recesses  of  the  dome 
Pensive  she  plied  the  melancholy  loom ; 
A  growing  work  employ 'd  her  secret  hours, 
Confus'dly  gay  with  intermingled  flow'rs. 

570  Her  fair-hair'd  handmaids  heat  the  brazen  urn, 
The  bath  preparing  for  her  lord's  return : 
In  vain  ;  alas  !  her  lord  returns  no  more  ! 
Unbath'd  he  lies,  and  bleeds  along  the  shore ! 
Now  from  the  walls  the  clamours  reach  her  ear, 

575  And  all  her  members  shake  with  sudden  fear  ; 
Forth  from  her  iv'ry  hand  the  shuttle  falls, 
As  thus,  astonish'd,  to  her  maids  she  calls : 

"  Ah,  follow  me  !  "  (she  cried)  "  what  plaintiff  noise 
Invades  my  ear  ?     'Tis  sure  my  mother's  voice. 

580  My  falt'ring  knees  their  trembling  frame  desert, 
A  pulse  unusual  flutters  at  my  heart. 
Some  strange  disaster,  some  reverse  of  fate 
(Ye  gods  avert  it !)  threats  the  Trojan  state. 
Far  be  the  omen  which  my  thoughts  suggest ! 

585  But  much  I  fear  my  Hector's  dauntless  breast 
Confronts  Achilles  ;  chas'd  along  the  plain, 
Shut  from  our  walls !  I  fear,  I  fear  him  slain ! 
Safe  in  the  crowd  he  ever  scorn'd  to  wait, 
And  sought  for  glory  in  the  jaws  of  fate : 


BOOK   XXII  77 

590  Perhaps  that  noble  heat  has  cost  his  breath, 

Now  quench'd  for  ever  in  the  arms  of  death." 
She  spoke ;  and,  furious,  with  distracted  pace, 

Fears  in  her  heart  and  anguish  in  her  face, 

Flies  through  the  dome  (the  maids  her  step  pursue), 
595  And  mounts  the  walls,  and  sends  around  her  view. 

Too  soon  her  eyes  the  killing  object  found, 

The  godlike  Hector  dragg'd  along  the  ground. 

A  sudden  darkness  shades  her  swimming  eyes : 

She  faints,  she  falls ;  her  breath,  her  colour  flies. 
600  Her  hair's  fair  ornaments,  the  braids  that  bound, 

The  net  that  held  them,  and  the  wreath  that  crown'd, 

The  veil  and  diadem,  flew  far  away 

(The  gift  of  Venus  on  her  bridal  day). 

Around  a  train  of  weeping  sisters  stands, 
005  To  raise  her  sinking  with  assistant  hands. 

Scarce  from  the  verge  of  death  recall' d,  again 

She  faints,  or  but  recovers  to  complain : 
"  0  wretched  husband  of  a  wretched  wife ! 

Born  with  one  fate,  to  one  unhappy  life ! 
Glo  For  sure  one  star  its  baneful  beam  displayed 

On  Priam's  roof  and  Hippoplacia's  shade. 

From  different  parents,  different  climes,  we  came, 

At  different  periods,  yet  our  fate  the  same ! 

Why  was  my  birth  to  great  Eetion  ow'd, 
615  And  why  was  all  that  tender  care  bestow'd  ? 

Would  I  had  never  been !  —  0  thou,  the  ghost 

Of  my  dead  husband  !  miserably  lost ! 

Thou  to  the  dismal  realms  for  ever  gone! 

And  I  abandon'd,  desolate,  alone ! 
620  An  only  child,  once  comfort  of  my  pains, 

Sad  product  now  of  hapless  love,  remains  ! 

No  more  to  smile  upon  his  sire !  no  friend 

To  help  him  now  !  no  father  to  defend  ! 

For  should  he  'scape  the  sword,  the  common  doom, 


78  THE   ILIAD 

(L>5  What  wrongs  attend  him,  and  what  griefs  to  come ! 
Ev'n  from  his  own  paternal  roof  expell'd, 
Some  stranger  plows  his  patrimonial  field. 
The  day  that  to  the  shades  the  father  sends, 
Eobs  the  sad  orphan  of  his  father's  friends  : 

630  He,  wretched  outcast  of  mankind !  appears 
For  ever  sad,  for  ever  bath'd  in  tears ; 
Amongst  the  happy,  unregarded  he 
Hangs  on  the  robe  or  trembles  at  the  knee ; 
While  those  his  father's  former  bounty  fed 

6o5  Nor  reach  the  goblet  nor  divide  the  bread : 
The  kindest  but  his  present  wants  allay, 
To  leave  him  wretched  the  succeeding  day. 
Frugal  compassion  !     Heedless,  they  who  boast 
Both  parents  still,  nor  feel  what  he  has  lost, 

040  Shall  cry,  i  Begone !  thy  father  feasts  not  here  : ' 
The  wretch  obeys,  retiring  with  a  tear. 
Thus  wretched,  thus  retiring  all  in  tears, 
To  my  sad  soul  Astyanax  appears ! 
Forc'd  by  repeated  insults  to  return, 

645  And  to  his  widow' d  mother  vainly  mourn. 
He  who,  with  tender  delicacy  bred, 
With  princes  sported  and  on  dainties  fed, 
And,  when  still  ev'ning  gave  him  up  to  rest, 
Sunk  soft  in  down  upon  the  nurse's  breast, 

050  Must  —  ah  !  what  must  he  not  ?     Whom  Ilioii  calls 
Astyanax,  from  her  well-guarded  walls, 
Is  now  that  name  no  more,  unhappy  boy ! 
Since  now  no  more  the  father  guards  his  Troy. 
But  thou,  my  Hector  !  li'st  expos'd  in  air, 

055  Far  from  thy  parents'  and  thy  consort's  care, 
Whose  hand  in  vain,  directed  by  her  love, 
The  martial  scarf  and  robe  of  triumph  wove. 
Now  to  devouring  flames  be  these  a  prey, 
Useless  to  thee,  from  this  accursed  day  ! 


BOOK  XXII  79 

GGO  Yet  let  the  sacrifice  at  least  be  paid, 
And  honour  to  the  living,  not  the  dead  !  " 

So  spake  the  mournful  dame :  her  matrons  hear, 
Sigh  back  her  sighs,  and  answer  tear  with  tear. 


BOOK  XXIV 

Now  from  the  finished  games  the  Grecian  band 

Seek  their  black  ships,  and  clear  the  crowded  strand  : 

All  stretched  at  ease  the  genial  banquet  share, 

And  pleasing  slumbers  quiet  all  their  care. 
5  Not  so  Achilles :  he,  to  grief  resigned, 

His  friend's  dear  image  present  to  his  mind, 

Takes  his  sad  couch,  more  unobserved  to  weep, 

Nor  tastes  the  gifts  of  all-composing  sleep. 

Eestless  he  roll'd  around  his  weary  bed, 
10  And  all  his  soul  on  his  Patroclus  fed : 

The  form  so  pleasing  and  the  heart  so  kind, 

That  youthful  vigour  and  that  manly  mind, 

What  toils  they  shar'd,  what  martial  works  they  wrought, 

What  seas  they  measured  and  what  fields  they  fought ;  — 
15  All  pass'd  before  him  in  remembrance  dear : 

Thought  follows  thought,  and  tear  succeeds  to  tear. 

And  now  supine,  now  prone,  the  hero  lay ; 

Now  shifts  his  side,  impatient  for  the  day ; 

Then  starting  up,  disconsolate  he  goes 
20  Wide  on  the  lonely  beach  to  vent  his  woes. 

There  as  the  solitary  mourner  raves, 

The  ruddy  morning  rises  o'er  the  waves : 

Soon  as  it  rose,  his  furious  steeds  he  join'd; 

The  chariot  flies,  and  Hector  trails  behind. 
25  And  thrice,  Patroclus  !  round  thy  monument 

Was  Hector  dragg'd,  then  hurried  to  the  tent. 

There  sleep  at  last  overcomes  the  hero's  eyes ; 

While  foul  in  dust  th'  unhonour'd  carcase  lies, 

But  not  deserted  by  the  pitying  skies. 

80 


BOOK  XXIV  81 

30  For  Phoebus  watch'd  it  with,  superior  care ; 

Preserved  from  gaping  wounds  and  tainting  air ; 

And,  ignominious  as  it  swept  the  field, 

Spread  o'er  the  sacred  corse  his  golden  shield. 

All  heav'n  was  mov'd,  and  Hermes  will'd  to  go 
35  By  stealth  to  snatch  him  from  th'  insulting  foe : 

But  Neptune  this  and  Pallas  this  denies, 

And  th7  unrelenting  empress  of  the  skies : 

E'er  since  that  day  implacable  to  Troy, 

What  time  young  Paris,  simple  shepherd  boy, 
40  Won  by  destructive  lust  (reward  obscene), 

Their  charms  rejected  for  the  Cyprian  queen. 

But  when  the  tenth  celestial  morning  broke, 

To  heav'n  assembled,  thus  Apollo  spoke : 

"  Unpitying  pow'rs  !  how  oft  each  holy  fane 
45  Has  Hector  ting'd  with  blood  of  victims  slain  ? 

And  can  ye  still  his  cold  remains  pursue  ? 

Still  grudge  his  body  to  the  Trojans'  view  ? 

Deny  to  consort,  mother,  son,  and  sire, 

The  last  sad  honours  of  the  fun'ral  fire  ? 
50  Is  then  the  dire  Achilles  all  your  care  ? 

That  iron  heart,  inflexibly  severe ; 

A  lion,  not  a  man,  who  slaughters  wide 

In  strength  of  rage  and  impotence  of  pride  ? 

Who  haste  to  murder  with  a  savage  joy ; 
55  Invades  around,  and  breathes  but  to  destroy  ? 

Shame  is  not  of  his  soul ;  nor  understood 

The  greatest  evil  and  the  greatest  good. 

Still  for  one  loss  he  rages  unresign'd, 

Repugnant  to  the  lot  of  all  mankind ; 
60  To  lose  a  friend,  a  brother,  or  a  son, 

Heav'n  dooms  each  mortal,  and  its  will  is  done : 

Awhile  they  sorrow,  then  dismiss  their  care ; 

Fate  gives  the  wound,  and  man  is  born  to  bear. 

But  this  insatiate  the  commission  giv'n 


82  THE   ILIAD 

65  By  fate  exceeds ;  and  tempts  the  wrath  of  heav'n  : 
Lo  how  his  rage  dishonest  drags  along 
Hector's  dead  earth,  insensible  of  wrong ! 
Brave  though  he  be,  yet  by  no  reason  aw'd, 
He  violates  the  laws  of  man  and  God." 

70      "If  equal  honours  by  the  partial  skies 
Are  doomed  both  heroes  "  (Juno  thus  replies)  ; 
"  If  Thetis'  son  must  no  distinction  know, 
Then  hear,  ye  gods  !  the  patron  of  the  bow. 
But  Hector  only  boasts  a  mortal  claim, 

75  His  birth  deriving  from  a  mortal  dame : 
Achilles,  of  your  own  ethereal  race, 
Springs  from  a  goddess  by  a  man's  embrace 
(A  goddess  by  ourself  to  Peleus  giv'n, 
A  man  divine,  and  chosen  friend  of  heav'n) : 

80  To  grace  those  nuptials,  from  the  bright  abode 
Yourselves  were  present;  where  this  minstrel-god 
(Well-pleas'd  to  share  the  feast)  amid  the  quire 
Stood  proud  to  him,  and  tuned  his  youthful  lyre." 
Then  thus  the  Thund'rer  checks  th'  imperial  dame : 

85  "  Let  not  thy  wrath  the  court  of  heav'n  inflame ; 
Their  merits  nor  their  honours  are  the  same. 
But  mine  and  ev'ry  god's  peculiar  grace 
Hector  deserves,  of  all  the  Trojan  race : 
Still  on  our  shrines  his  grateful  offerings  lay 

90  (The  only  honours  men  to  gods  can  pay)  : 
Nor  ever  from  our  smoking  altar  ceast 
The  pure  libation  and  the  holy  feast. 
Howe'er,  by  stealth  to  snatch  the  corse  away 
We  will  not :  Thetis  guards  it.  night  and  day. 

95  But  haste,  and  summon  to  our  courts  above 
The  azure  queen ;  let  her  persuasion  move 
Her  furious  son  from  Priam  to  receive 
The  proft'er'd  ransom,  and  the  corpse  to  leave. " 
He  added  not :  and  Iris  from  the  skies 


BOOK  XXIV  83 

100  Swift  as  a  whirlwind  on  the  message  flies ; 

Meteorous  the  face  of  ocean  sweeps, 

Refulgent  gliding  o'er  the  sable  deeps. 

Between  where  Samos  wide  his  forests  spreads, 

And  rocky  Imbros  lifts  its  pointed  heads, 
105  Down  plung'd  the  maid  (the  parted  waves  resound) ; 

She  plung'd,  and  instant  shot  the  dark  profound. 

As,  bearing  death  in  the  fallacious  bait, 

From  the  bent  angle  sinks  the  leaden  weight ; 

So  past  the  goddess  through  the  closing  wave 
no  Where  Thetis  sorrowed  in  her  secret  cave : 

There  plac'd  amidst  her  melancholy  train 

(The  blue-hair'd  sisters  of  the  sacred  main), 

Pensive  she  sate,  revolving  fates  to  come, 

And  wept  her  godlike  son's  approaching  doom. 
115      Then  thus  the  goddess  of  the  painted  bow  : 

"  Arise,  O  Thetis  !  from  thy  seats  below ; 

Tis  Jove  that  calls."     "  And  why  "  (the  dame  replies) 

"  Calls  Jove  his  Thetis  to  the  hated  skies  ? 

Sad  object  as  I  am  for  heav'nly  sight ! 
120  Ah  !  may  my  sorrows  ever  shun  the  light ! 

Howe'er,  be  heav'n's  almighty  sire  obey'd." 

She  spake,  and  veil'd  her  head  in  sable  shade, 

Which,  flowing  long,  her  graceful  person  clad ; 

And  forth  she  pac'd,  majestically  sad. 
125      Then  through  the  world  of  waters  they  repair 

(The  way  fair  Iris  led)  to  upper  air. 

The  deeps  dividing,  o'er  the  coast  they  rise, 

And  touch  with  momentary  flight  the  skies. 

There  in  the  light'ning's  blaze  the  sire  they  found, 
130  And  all  the  gods  in  shining  synod  round. 

Thetis  approach'd  with  anguish  in  her  face 

(Minerva  rising  gave  the  mourner  place) ; 

E'en  Juno  sought  her  sorrows  to  console, 

And  offer' d  from  her  hand  the  nectar  bowl : 


84  THE   ILIAD 

135  She  tasted,  and  resigned  it :  then  began 

The  sacred  sire  of  gods  and  mortal  man : 

"  Thou  com'st,  fair  Thetis,  but  with  grief  o'ercast, 

Maternal  sorrows,  long,  ah  long  to  last ! 

Suffice,  we  know  and  we  partake  thy  cares ; 
140  But  yield  to  fate,  and  hear  what  Jove  declares. 

Nine  days  are  past,  since  all  the  court  above 

In  Hector's  cause  have  mov'd  the  ear  of  Jove ; 

'Twas  voted  Hermes  from  his  godlike  foe 

By  stealth  should  bear  him,  but  we  wilPd  not  so : 
145  We  will  thy  son  himself  the  corse  restore, 

And  to  his  conquest  add  this  glory  more. 

Then  hie  thee  to  him,  and  our  mandate  bear ; 

Tell  him  he  tempts  the  wrath  of  heav'n  too  far : 

Nor  let  him  more  (our  anger  if  he  dread) 
150  Vent  his  mad  vengeance  on  the  sacred  dead : 

But  yield  to  ransom,  and  the  father's  pray'r. 

The  mournful  father  Iris  shall  prepare 

With  gifts  to  sue ;  and  offer  to  his  hands 

Whate'er  his  honour  asks,  or  heart  demands." 
155      His  word  the  silver-footed  queen  attends, 

And  from  Olympus'  snowy  tops  descends. 

Arriv'd,  she  heard  the  voice  of  loud  lament, 

And  echoing  groans  that  shook  the  lofty  tent. 

His  friends  prepare  the  victim,  and  dispose 
loo  Eepast  unheeded,  while  he  vents  his  woes. 

The  goddess  seats  her  by  her  pensive  son: 

She  prest  his  hand,  and  tender  thus  begun : 
"  How  long,  unhappy !  shall  thy  sorrows  flow, 

And  thy  heart  waste  with  life-consuming  woe, 
165  Mindless  of  food  or  love,  whose  pleasing  reign 

Soothes  weary  life  and  softens  human  pain  ? 

Oh  snatch  the  moments  yet  within  thy  pow'r ; 

Nor  long  to  live,  indulge  the  am'rous  hour ! 

Lo !  Jove  himself  (for  Jove's  command  I  bear) 


BOOK   XXIV  85 

170  Forbids  to  tempt  the  wrath  of  heav'n  too  far. 

No  longer  then  (his  fury  if  thou  dread) 

Detain  the  relics  of  great  Hector  dead ; 

Nor  vent  on  senseless  earth  thy  vengeance  vain, 

But  yield  to  ransom,  and  restore  the  slain.7' 
175      To  whom  Achilles  :  "  Be  the  ransom  giv'n, 

And  we  submit ;  since  such  the  will  of  heav'n." 

While  thus  they  commuird,  from  th'  Olympian  bow'rs 

Jove  orders  Iris  to  the  Trojan  tow'rs : 

"  Haste,  winged  goddess !  to  the  sacred  town, 
180  And  urge  her  monarch  to  redeem  his  son ; 

Alone,  the  Ilian  ramparts  let  him  leave, 

And  bear  what  stern  Achilles  may  receive : 

Alone,  for  so  we  will:  no  Trojan  near ; 

Except,  to  place  the  dead  with  decent  care, 
185  Some  aged  herald  who,  with  gentle  hand, 

May  the  slow  mules  and  fun'ral  car  command. 

Nor  let  him  death  nor  let  him  danger  dread, 

Safe  through  the  foe  by  our  protection  led : 

Him  Hermes  to  Achilles  shall  convey, 
ii)o  Guard  of  his  life  and  partner  of  his  way. 

Fierce  as  he  is,  Achilles'  self  shall  spare 

His  age,  nor  touch  one  venerable  hair : 

Some  thought  there  must  be,  in  a  soul  so  brave, 

Some  sense  of  duty,  some  desire  to  save." 
195      Then  down  her  bow  the  winged  Iris  drives, 

And  swift  at  Priam's  mournful  court  arrives ; 

Where  the  sad  sons  beside  their  father's  throne 

Sate  bath'd  in  tears,  and  answer'd  groan  with  groan. 

And  all  amidst  them  lay  the  hoary  sire 
200  (Sad  scene  of  woe  !)  :  his  face  his  wrapt  attire 

ConceaPd  from  sight ;  with  frantic  hands  he  spread 

A  show'r  of  ashes  o'er  his  neck  and  head. 

From  room  to  room  his  pensive  daughters  roam, 

Whose  shrieks  and  clamours  fill  the  vaulted  dome ; 


86  THE   ILIAD 

205  Mindful  of  those  who,  late  their  pride  and  joy, 
Lie  pale  and  breathless  round  the  fields  of  Troy ! 
Before  the  king  Jove's  messenger  appears, 
And  thus  in  whispers  greets  his  trembling  ears : 
"Fear  not,  0  father!  no  ill  news  I  bear; 

210  From  Jove  I  come,  Jove  makes  thee  still  his  care : 
For  Hector's  sake  these  walls  he  bids  thee  leave, 
And  bear  what  stern  Achilles  may  receive : 
Alone,  for  so  he  wills :  no  Trojan  near, 
Except,  to  place  the  dead  with  decent  care, 

215  Some  aged  herald,  who  with  gentle  hand 

May  the  slow  mules  and  fun'ral  car  command. 
Nor  shalt  thou  death  nor  shalt  thou  danger  dread ; 
Safe  through  the  foe  by  his  protection  led : 
Thee  Hermes  to  Pelides  shall  convey, 

220  Guard  of  thy  life  and  partner  of  thy  way. 
Fierce  as  he  is,  Achilles'  self  shall  spare 
Thy  age,  nor  touch  one  venerable  hair : 
Some  thought  there  must  be,  in  a  soul  so  brave, 
Some  sense  of  duty,  some  desire  to  save." 

225      She  spoke,  and  vanish'd.     Priam  bids  prepare 
His  gentle  mules,  and  harness  to  the  car ; 
There,  for  the  gifts,  a  polish'd  casket  lay : 
His  pious  sons  the  king's  commands  obey. 
Then  pass'd  the  monarch  to  his  bridal-room, 

230  Where  cedar-beams  the  lofty  roofs  perfume, 
And  where  the  treasures  of  his  empire  lay ; 
Then  call'd  his  queen,  and  thus  began  to  say : 

"  Unhappy  consort  of  a  king  distrest ! 
Partake  the  troubles  of  thy  husband's  breast : 

2:35  I  saw  descend  the  messenger  of  Jove, 
Who  bids  me  try  Achilles'  mind  to  move, 
Forsake  these  ramparts,  and  with  gifts  obtain 
The  corse  of  Hectov  at  yon'  navy  slain. 
Tell  me  thy  thought :  my  heart  impels  to  go 

240  Thro'  hostile  camps,  and  bears  me  to  the  foe." 


BOOK  XXIV  87 

The  hoary  monarch  thus  :  her  piercing  cries 

Sad  Hecuba  renews,  and  then  replies : 

"  Ah !  whither  wanders  thy  distempered  mind ; 

And  where  the  prudence  now,  that  aw'd  mankind 
245  Thro'  Phrygia  once,  and  foreign  regions  known, 

Now  all  conf us'd,  distracted,  overthrown  ? 

Singly  to  pass  through  hosts  of  foes !  to  face 

(0  heart  of  steel !)  the  murd'rer  of  thy  race ! 

To  view  that  deathf ul  eye,  and  wander  o'er 
250  Those  hands,  yet  red  with  Hector's  noble  gore ! 

Alas  !  niy  lord  !  he  knows  not  how  to  spare ; 

And  what  his  mercy,  thy  slain  sons  declare ; 

So  brave,  so  many  fall'ii !  to  calm  his  rage 

Vain  were  thy  dignity,  and  vain  thy  age. 
255  No  !  —  pent  in  this  sad  palace,  let  us  give 

To  grief  the  wretched  days  we  have  to  live. 

Still,  still  for  Hector  let  our  sorrows  flow, 

Born  to  his  own  and  to  his  parents'  woe ! 

Doom'd  from  the  hour  his  luckless  life  begun 
200  To  dogs,  to  vultures,  and  to  Peleus'  son ! 

Oh  !  in  his  dearest  blood  might  I  allay 

My  rage,  and  these  barbarities  repay ! 

For  ah !  could  Hector  merit  thus  ?  whose  breath 

Expir'd  not  meanly  in  inactive  death  : 
265  He  pour'd  his  latest  blood  in  manly  fight, 

And  fell  a  hero  in  his  country's  right." 

"  Seek  not  to  stay  me,  nor  my  soul  affright 

With  words  of  omen  like  a  bird  of  night" 

(Replied  umnov'd  the  venerable  man)  : 
270  "  'Tis  heav'n  commands  me,  and  you  urge  in  vain. 

Had  any  mortal  voice  th'  injunction  laid, 

Nor  augur,  priest,  nor  seer  had  been  obey'd. 

A  present  goddess  brought  the  high  command : 

I  saw,  I  heard  her,  and  the  word  shall  stand. 
275  I  go,  ye  gods !  obedient  to  your  call : 


88  THE   ILIAD 

If  in  yon'  camp  your  pow'rs  have  doom'd  my  fall. 

Content :  by  the  same  hand  let  me  expire ! 

Add  to  the  slaughter'd  son  the  wretched  sire ! 

One  cold  embrace  at  least  may  be  allow'd, 
280  And  my  last  tears  flow  mingled  with  his  blood  ! " 
Forth  from  his  open'd  stores,  this  said,  he  drew 

Twelve  costly  carpets  of  refulgent  hue ; 

As  many  vests,  as  many  mantles  told, 

And  twelve  fair  veils,  and  garments  stiff  with  gold; 
285  Two  tripods  next,  and  twice  two  chargers  shine, 

With  ten  pure  talents  from  the  richest  mine ; 

And  last  a  large,  well-labour'd  bowl  had  place 

(The  pledge  of  treaties  once  with  friendly  Thrace) : 

Seem'd  all  too  mean  the  stores  he  could  employ, 
290  For  one  last  look  to  buy  him  back  to  Troy  ! 
Lo !  the  sad  father,  frantic  with  his  pain, 

Around  him  furious  drives  his  menial  train : 

In  vain  each  slave  with  duteous  care  attends, 

Each  office  hurts  him,  and  each  face  offends. 
295  "What  make  ye  here,  officious  crowds  !  "  (he  cries) 

"  Hence,  nor  obtrude  your  anguish  on  my  eyes. 

Have  ye  no  griefs  at  home  to  fix  ye  there  ? 

Am  I  the  only  object  of  despair  ? 

Am  I  become  my  people's  common  show, 
300  Set  up  by  Jove  your  spectacle  of  woe  ? 

No,  you  must  feel  him  too :  yourselves  must  fall ; 

The  same  stern  god  to  ruin  gives  you  all. 

Nor  is  great  Hector  lost  by  me  alone : 

Your  sole  defence,  your  guardian  pow'r  is  gone ! 
305  I  see  your  blood  the  fields  of  Phrygia  drown ; 

I  see  the  ruins  of  your  smoking  town ! 

Oh  send  me,  gods,  ere  that  sad  day  shall  come, 

A  willing  ghost  to  Pluto's  dreary  dome  ! " 

He  said,  and  feebly  drives  his  friends  away : 
310  The  sorrowing  friends  his  frantic  rage  obey. 


BOOK   XXIV  89 

Next  on  his  sons  his  erring  fury  falls, 

Polites,  Paris,  Agathon,  he  calls; 

His  threats  Deiphobus  and  Dius  hear, 

Hippothoiis,  Pammon,  Helenns  the  seer, 
315  And  gen'rous  Antiphon  5  for  yet  these  nine 

Survived,  sad  relics  of  his  numerous  line : 
"  Inglorious  sons  of  an  unhappy  sire  ! 

Why  did  not  all  in  Hector's  cause  expire  ? 

Wretch  that  I  am  !  my  bravest  offspring  slain, 
320  You,  the  disgrace  of  Priam's  house,  remain ! 

Mestor  the  brave,  renown' d  in  ranks  of  war, 

Writh  Troilus,  dreadful  on  his  rushing  car, 

And  last  great  Hector,  more  than  man  divine, 

For  sure  he  seem'd  not  of  terrestrial  line !  — 
325  All  those  relentless  Mars  untimely  slew, 

And  left  me  these,  a  soft  and  servile  crew, 

Whose  days  the  feast  and  wanton  dance  employ, 

Gluttons  and  flatt'rers,  the  contempt  of  Troy ! 

Why  teach  ye  not  my  rapid  wheels  to  run, 
330  And  speed  my  journey  to  redeem  my  son  ?  " 
The  sons  their  father's  wretched  age  revere, 

Forgive  his  anger,  and  produce  the  car. 

High  on  the  seat  the  cabinet  they  bind  ; 

The  new-made  car  with  solid  beauty  shin'd : 
335  Box  was  the  yoke,  embost  with  costly  pains, 

And  hung  with  ringlets  to  receive  the  reins  : 

Nine  cubits  long,  the  traces  swept  the  ground ; 

These  to  the  chariot's  polish'd  pole  they  bound, 

Then  fix'd  a  ring  the  running  reins  to  guide, 
340  And  close  beneath  the  gather'd  ends  were  tied. 

Next  with  the  gifts  (the  price  of  Hector  slain) 

The  sad  attendants  load  the  groaning  wain :' 

Last  to  the  yoke  the  well-match'd  mules  they  bring 

(The  gift  of  Mysia  to  the  Trojan  king)  ; 
345  But  the  fair  horses,  long  his  darling  care, 


90  THE    ILIAD 

Himself  receiv'd,  and  harness'd  to  liis  car : 

Griev'd  as  lie  was,  he  not  this  task  denied ; 

The  hoary  herald  help'd  him  at  his  side. 

While  careful  these  the  gentle  coursers  join'd, 
350  Sad  Hecuba  approach'd  with  anxious  mind; 

A  golden  bowl  that  foam'd  with  fragrant  wine 

(Libation  destined  to  the  pow'r  divine) 

Held  in  her  right,  before  the  steeds  she  stands, 

And  thus  consigns  it  to  the  monarch's  hands : 
355      "  Take  this,  and  pour  to  Jove;  that,  safe  from  harms, 

His  grace  restore  thee  to  our  roof  and  arms. 

Since,  victor  of  thy  fears,  and  slighting  mine, 

Heav'n  or  thy  soul  inspire  this  bold  design : 

Pray  to  that  god  who,  high  on  Ida's  brow, 
3(50  Surveys  thy  desolated  realms  below, 

His  winged  messenger  to  send  from  high, 

And  lead  the  way  with  heav'nly  augury : 

Let  the  strong  sovereign  of  the  plumy  race 

Tow'r  on  the  right  of  yon  ethereal  space. 
365  That  sign  beheld,  and  strengthened  from  above, 

Boldly  pursue  the  journey  mark'd  by  Jove ; 

But  if  the  god  his  augury  denies, 

Suppress  thy  impulse,  nor  reject  advice." 

"'Tis  just"  (said  Priam)  "to  the  Sire  above 
370  To  raise  our  hands ;  for  who  so  good  as  Jove  ? " 

He  spoke,  and  bade  th'  attendant  handmaid  bring 

The  purest  water  of  the  living  spring 

(Her  ready  hands  the  ewer  and  bason  held) ; 

Then  took  the  golden  cup  his  queen  had  fill'd ; 
375  On  the  mid  pavement  pours  the  rosy  wine, 

Uplifts  his  eyes,  and  calls  the  pow'r  divine : 
"  0  first  and  greatest !  heav'n's  imperial  lord ! 

On  lofty  Ida's  holy  hill  ador'd  ! 

To  stern  Achilles  now  direct  my  ways, 
380  And  teach  him  mercy  when  a  father  prays. 

If  such  thy  will,  despatch  from  yonder  sky 


BOOK   XXIV  91 

Thy  sacred  bird,  coelestial  augury  ! 

Let  the  strong  sovereign  of  the  plumy  race 

Tow'r  on  the  right  of  yon  ethereal  space : 
385  So  shall  thy  suppliant,  strengthened  from  above, 

Fearless  pursue  the  journey  mark'd  by  Jove." 

Jove  heard  his  pray'r,  and  from  the  throne  on  high 

Despatched  his  bird,  coelestial  augury  ! 

The  swift-wing'd  chaser  of  the  feather'd  game, 
390  And  known  to  gods  by  Percnos'  lofty  name. 

Wide  as  appears  some  palace  gate  displayed, 

So  broad  his  pinions  stretch'd  their  ample  shade, 

As,  stooping  dexter  with  resounding  wings, 

Th7  imperial  bird  descends  in  airy  rings. 
395  A  dawn  of  joy  in  ev'ry  face  appears ; 

The  mourning  matron  dries  her  tim'rous  tears. 

Swift  on  his  car  th7  impatient  monarch  sprung; 

The  brazen  portal  in  his  passage  rung. 

The  mules,  preceding,  draw  the  loaded  wain, 
400  Charged  with  the  gifts  ;  Idaeus  holds  the  rein  : 

The  king  himself  his  gentle  steeds  controls, 

And  thro'  surrounding  friends  the  chariot  rolls. 

On  his  slow  wheels  the  following  people  wait, 

Mourn  at  each  step,  and  give  him  up  to  fate ; 
405  With  hands  uplifted,  eye  him  as  he  past, 

And  gaze  upon  him  as  they  gaz'd  their  last. 
Now  forward  fares  the  father  on  his  way, 

Through  the  lone  fields  and  back  to  Ilion  they. 

Great  Jove  beheld  him  as  he  crost  the  plain, 
410  And  felt  the  woes  of  miserable  man. 

Then  thus  to  Hermes  :  "  Thou,  whose  constant  cares 

Still  succour  mortals,  and  attend  their  pray'rs  ! 

Behold  an  object  to  thy  charge  consign'd ; 

If  ever  pity  touched  thee  for  mankind, 
415  Go,  guard  the  sire  ;  th?  observing  foe  prevent, 

And  safe  conduct  him  to  Achilles'  tent." 


92  THE   ILIAD 

The  god  obeys,  his  golden  pinions  binds, 

And  mounts  incumbent  on  the  wings  of  winds, 

That  high  thro'  fields  of  air  his  flight  sustain, 
420  O'er  the  wide  earth,  and  o'er  the  boundless  main; 

Then  grasps  the  wand  that  causes  sleep  to  fly, 

Or  in  soft  slumbers  seals  the  wakeful  eye : 

Thus  arm'd,  swift  Hermes  steers  his  airy  way, 

And  stoops  on  Hellespont's  resounding  sea. 
425  A  beauteous  youth,  majestic  and  divine, 

He  seem'd ;  fair  offspring  of  some  princely  line ! 

Now  twilight  veil'd  the  glaring  face  of  day, 

And  clad  the  dusky  fields  in  sober  gray  ; 

What  time  the  herald  and  the  hoary  king, 
430  Their  chariot  stopping  at  the  silver  spring 

That  circling  Ilus'  ancient  marble  flows, 

Allow'd  their  mules  and  steeds  a  short  repose. 

Through  the  dim  shade  the  herald  first  espies 

A  man's  approach,  and  thus  to  Priam  cries  : 
435  "  I  mark  some  foe's  advance  :  0  king !  beware ; 

This  hard  adventure  claims  thy  utmost  care  ; 

For  much  I  fear  destruction  hovers  nigh. 

Our  state  asks  counsel.     Is  it  best  to  fly  ? 

Or,  old  and  helpless,  at  his  feet  to  fall 
440  (Two  wretched  suppliants),  and  for  mercy  call  ?  " 
Th'  afflicted  monarch  shiver'd  with  despair ; 

Pale  grew  his  face,  and  upright  stood  his  hair ; 

Sunk  was  his  heart ;  his  colour  went  and  came ; 

A  sudden  trembling  shook  his  aged  frame ; 
445  When  Hermes,  greeting,  touch'd  his  royal  hand, 

And,  gentle,  thus  accosts  with  kind  demand : 
"  Say  whither,  father  !  when  each  mortal  sight 

Is  seal'd  in  sleep,  thou  wander'st  through  the  night  ? 

Why  roam  thy  mules  and  steeds  the  plains  along 
450  Through  Grecian  foes  so  num'rous   and  so  strong  ? 

What  couldst  thou  hope,  shouldst  these  thy  treasures  view, 


BOOK   XXIV  93 

These,  who  with  endless  hate  thy  race  pursue  ? 

For  what  defence,  alas  !  couldst  thou  provide  ? 

Thyself  not  young,  a  weak  old  man  thy  guide. 
455  Yet  suffer  not  thy  soul  to  sink  with  dread  ; 

From  me  no  harm  shall  touch  thy  rev' rend  head  ; 

From  Greece  I'll  guard  thee,  too ;  for  in  those  lines 

The  living  image  of  my  father  shines." 

"  Thy  words,  that  speak  benevolence  of  mind, 
460  Are  true,  my  son !  "  (the  godlike  sire  rejoin'd) 

"  Great  are  my  hazards ;  but  the  gods  survey 

My  steps  and  send  thee,  guardian  of  my  way. 

Hail !  and  be  blest !  for  scarce  of  mortal  kind 

Appear  thy  form,  thy  feature,  and  thy  mind." 
465      « Nor  true  are  all  thy  words,  nor  erring  wide  " 

(The  sacred  messenger  of  heav'n  replied)  ; 

"  But  say,  convey'st  thou  through  the  lonely  plains 

What  yet  most  precious  of  thy  store  remains, 

To  lodge  in  safety  with  some  friendly  hand, 
470  Prepared  perchance  to  leave  thy  native  land  ? 

Or  fly'st  thou  now  ?  What  hopes  can  Troy  retain, 

Thy  matchless  son,  her  guard  and  glory,  slain  ?  " 
The  king,  alarm'd :  "  Say  what  and  whence  thou  art, 

AVho  search  the  sorrows  of  a  parent's  heart, 
475  And  know  so  well  how  godlike  Hector  died  ?  " 

Thus  Priam  spoke,  and  Hermes  thus  replied  : 
"You  tempt  me,  father,  and  with  pity  touch  : 

On  this  sad  subject  you  inquire  too  much. 

Oft  have  these  eyes  the  godlike  Hector  view'd 
480  In  glorious  fight,  with  Grecian  blood  imbru'd : 

I  saw  him,  when,  like  Jove,  his  flames  he  tost 

On  thousand  ships,-  and  wither 'd  half  a  host : 

I  saw,  but  help'd  not ;  stern  Achilles'  ire 

Forbad  assistance,  and  enjoy 'd  the  fire. 
485  For  him  I  serve,  of  Myrmidonian  race ; 

One  ship  convey'd  us  from  our  native  place ; 


94  THE    ILIAD 

Poly c tor  is  my  sire,  an  honour 'd  name, 
Old,  like  thyself,  and  not  unknown  to  fame; 
Of  seven  his  sons,  by  whom  the  lot  was  cast 

490  To  serve  our  prince,  it  fell  on  me,  the  last. 
To  watch  this  quarter  my  adventure  falls ; 
For  with  the  morn  the  Greeks  attack  your  walls : 
Sleepless  they  sit,  impatient  to  engage, 
And  scarce  their  rulers  check  their  martial  rage." 

495      "-If  then  thou  art  of  stern  Pelides'  train  " 
(The  mournful  monarch  thus  rejoin'd  again), 
"  Ah,  tell  me  truly,  where,  oh !  where  are  laid 
My  son's  dear  relics  ?  what  befalls  him  dead  ? 
Have  dogs  dism  ember' d  on  the  naked  plains, 

500  Or  yet  unmangled  rest  his  cold  remains  ?•" 

"  0  favor' d  of  the  skies  ! "  (thus  answer'd  then 
The  pow'r  that  mediates  between  gods  and  men) 
"  Nor  dogs  nor  vultures  have  thy  Hector  rent, 
But  whole  he  lies,  neglected  in  the  tent : 

505  This  the  twelfth  evening  since  he  rested  there, 
Untouch'd  by  worms,  untainted  by  the  air. 
Still  as  Aurora's  ruddy  beam  is  spread, 
Bound  his  friend's  tomb  Achilles  drags  the  dead ; 
Yet  undisfigur'd,  or  in  limb  or  face, 

510  All  fresh  he  lies,  with  ev'ry  living  grace, 
Majestical  in  death  !     No  stains  are  found 
O'er  all  the  corse,  and  clos'd  is  ev'ry  wound ; 
Though  many  a  wound  they  gave.     Some  heav'nly  care, 
Some  hand  divine,  preserves  him  ever  fair : 

515  Or  all  the  host  of  heav'n,  to  whom  he  led 
A  life  so  grateful,  still  regard  him  dead." 

Thus  spoke  to  Priam  the  coelestial  guide, 
And  joyful  thus  the  royal  sire  replied : 
"  Blest  is  the  man  who  pays  the  gods  above 

520  The  constant  tribute  of  respect  and  love ! 
Those  who  inhabit  the  Olympian  bow'r 


BOOK   XXIV  95 

My  son  forgot  not,  in  exalted  pow'r ; 

And  Heav'n,  that  ev'ry  virtue  bears  in  mind, 

Ev'n.  to  the  ashes  of  the  just  is  kind. 
525  But  them,  0  gen'rous  youth !  this  goblet  take, 

A  pledge  of  gratitude  for  Hector's  sake  ; 

And  while  the  fav'ring  gods  our  steps  survey,, 

Safe  to  Pelides'  tent  conduct  my  way/' 

To  whom  the  latent  god :  "0  king,  forbear 
530  To  tempt  my  youth  !  for  apt  is  youth  to  err : 

But  can  I,  absent  from  my  prince's  sight, 

Take  gifts  in  secret,  that  must  shun  the  light  ? 

What  from  our  master's  int'rest  thus  we  draw, 

Is  but  a  licensed  theft  that  'scapes  the  law. 
535  Eespecting  him,  my  soul  abjures  th'  offence ; 

And  as  the  crime  I  dread  the  consequence. 

Thee,  far  as  Argos,  pleas'd  I  could  convey ; 

Guard  of  thy  life,  and  partner  of  thy  way  : 

On  thee  attend,  thy  safety  to  maintain 
540  O'er  pathless  forests  or  the  roaring  main." 
He  said,  then  took  the  chariot  at  a  bound, 

And  snatch'd  the  reins  and  whirl'd  the  lash  around: 

Before  th'  inspiring  god  that  urged  them  on 

The  coursers  fly,  with  spirit  not  their  own. 
545  And  now  they  reach'd  the  naval  walls,  and  found 

The  guards  repasting,  while  the  bowls  go  round : 

On  these  the  virtue  of  his  wand  he  tries, 

And  pours  deep  slumber  on  their  watchful  eyes ; 

Then  heav'd  the  massy  gates,  remov'd  the  bars, 
550  And  o'er  the  trenches  led  the  rolling  cars. 

Unseen,  through  all  the  hostile  canip  they  went, 

And  now  approach'd  Pelides'  lofty  tent. 

Of  fir  the  roof  was  rais'd,  and  cover'd  o'er 

With  reeds  collected  from  the  marshy  shore, 
555  And  fenc'd  with  palisades,  a  hall  of  state 
(The  work  of  soldiers),  where  the  hero  sate. 


96  THE   ILIAD 

Large  was  the  door,  whose  well-compacted  strength 

A  solid  pine-tree  barr'd,  of  wond'ious  length; 

Scarce  three  strong  Greeks  could  lift  its  mighty  weight, 
560  But  great  Achilles  singly  clos'd  the  gate. 

This  Hermes   (such  the  pow'r  of  gods)  set  wide ; 

Then  swift  alighted  the  coelestial  guide, 

And  thus,  reveal' d  :  "  Hear,  prince  !  and  understand 

Thou  ow'st  thy  guidance  to  no  mortal  hand : 
505  Hermes  I  am,  descended  from  above, 

The  king  of  arts,  the  messenger  of  Jove. 

Farewell :  to  shun  Achilles'  sight  I  fly ; 

Uncommon  are  such  favours  of  the  sky, 

Nor  stand  confest  to  frail  mortality. 
570  Now  fearless  enter,  and  prefer  thy  pray'rs  ; 

Adjure  him  by  his  father's  silver  hairs, 

His  son,  his  mother !  urge  him  to  bestow 

Whatever  pity  that  stern  heart  can  know." 

Thus  having  said,  he  vanish'd  from  his  eyes, 
575  And  in  a  moment  shot  into  the  skies  : 

The  king,  confirm'd  from  heav'n,  alighted  there, 

And  left  his  aged  herald  on  the  car. 

With  solemn  pace  through  various  rooms  he  went, 

And  found  Achilles  in  his  inner  tent : 
580  There  sate  the  hero ;  Alcimus  the  brave 

And  great  Autoinedon.  attendance  gave ; 

These  serv'd  his  person  at  his  royal  feast ; 

Around,  at  awful  distance,  stood  the  rest. 

Unseen  by  these,  the  king  his  entry  made; 
585  Arid,  prostrate  now  before  Achilles  laid, 

Sudden  (a  venerable  sight !)  appears ; 

Embrac'd  his  knees  and  bath'd  his  hands  in  tears ; 

Those  direful  hands  his  kisses  press'd,  imbru'd 

Ev'n  with  the  best,  the  dearest  of  his  blood ! 
590      As  when  a  wretch  (who,  conscious  of  his  crime, 

Pursu'd  for  murder,  flies  his  native  clime) 


BOOK   XXIV  97 

Just  gains  some  frontier,  breathless,  pale,  amaz'd  : 

All  gaze,  all  wonder :  thus  Achilles  gaz'd  : 

Thus  stood  tli'  attendants  stupid  with  surprise ; 
595  All  mute,  yet  seem'd  to  question  with  their  eyes  : 

Each  look'd  on  other,  none  the  silence  broke, 

Till  thus  at  last  the  kingly  suppliant  spoke : 
"  Ah  think,  thou  favoured  of  the  pow'rs  divine ! 

Think  of  thy  father's  age,  and  pity  mine ! 
600  In  me,  that  father's  rev'rend  image  trace, 

Those  silver  hairs,  that  venerable  face  ; 

His  trembling  limbs,  his  helpless  person,  see  ! 

In  all  my  equal  but  in  misery ! 

Yet  now,  perhaps,  some  turn  of  human  fate 
G05  Expels  him  helpless  from  his  peaceful  state ; 

Think,  from  some  powerful  foe  thou  see'st  him  fly, 

And  beg  protection  with  a  feeble  cry. 

Yet  still  one  comfort  in  his  soul  may  rise ; 

He  hears  his  son  still  lives  to  glad  his  eyes ; 
010  And,  hearing,  still  may  hope  a  better  day 

May  send  him  thee  to  chase  that  foe  away. 

No  comfort  to  my  griefs,  no  hopes  remain ; 

The  best,  the  bravest  of  my  sons  are  slain ! 

Yet  what  a  race  !  ere  Greece  to  Ilion  came, 
615  The  pledge  of  many  a  lov'd  and  loving  dame  ! 

Nineteen  one  mother  bore  —  dead,  all  are  dead ! 

.How  oft,  alas,  has  wretched  Priam  bled! 

Still  one  was  left,  their  loss  to  recompense ; 

His  father's  hope,  his  country's  last  defence. 
620  Him  too  thy  rage  has  slain !  beneath  thy  steel, 

Unhappy,  in  his  country's  cause  he  fell ! 

For  him  thro'  hostile  camps  I  bent  my  way ; 

For  him  thus  prostrate  at  thy  feet  I  lay  ; 

Large  gifts,  proportion 'd  to  thy  wrath,  I  bear : 
625  Oh,  hear  the  wretched,  and  the  gods  revere ! 

Think  of  thy  father,  and  this  face  behold ! 


98  THE   ILIAD 

See  him  in  me,  as  helpless  and  as  old ; 

Though  not  so  wretched :  there  he  yields  to  me, 

The  first  of  men  in  sov'reign  misery : 
030  Thus  forc'd  to  kneel,  thus  grov'ling  to  embrace 

The  scourge  and  ruin  of  my  realm  and  race ; 

Suppliant  my  children's  murd'rer  to  implore, 

And  kiss  those  hands  yet  reeking  with  their  gore ! " 

These  words  soft  pity  in  the  chief  inspire, 
035  Touch'd  with  the  dear  remembrance  of  his  sire. 

Then  with  his  hand  (as  prostrate  still  he  lay) 

The  old  man's  cheek  he  gently  turn'd  away. 

Now  each  by  turns  indulg'd  the  gush  of  woe ; 

And  now  the  mingled  tides  together  flow : 
040  This  low  on  earth,  that  gently  bending  o'er, 

A  father  one,  and  one  a  son,  deplore : 

But  great  Achilles  different  passions  rend, 

And  now  his  sire  he  mourns,  and  now  his  friend. 

Th'  infectious  softness  thro'  the  heroes  ran ; 
045  One  universal  solemn  show'r  began ; 

They  bore  as  heroes,  but  they  felt  as  man. 
Satiate  at  length  with  unavailing  woes, 

From  the  high  throne  divine  Achilles  rose : 

The  rev'rend  monarch  by  the  hand  he  rais'd; 
050  On  his  white  beard  and  form  majestic  gaz'd, 

Not  unrelenting  :  then  serene  began 

With  words  to  soothe  the  miserable  man  : 

"Alas  !  what  weight  of  anguish  hast  thou  known, 

Unhappy  prince !  thus  guardless  and  alone 
05r>  To  pass  through  foes,  and  thus  undaunted  face 

The  man  whose  fury  has  destroy 'd  thy  race ! 

Heav'n  sure  has  arm'd  thee  with  a  heart  of  steel, 

A  strength  proportion'd  to  the  woes  you  feel. 

Rise  then:  let  reason  mitigate  our  care: 
£00  To  mourn  avails  not :  man  is  born  to  bear. 

Such  is,  alas  !  the  gods'  severe  decree ; 


BOOK   XXIV  99 

They,  only  they  are  blest,  and  only  free. 

Two  urns  by  Jove's  high  throne  have  ever  stood, 

The  source  of  evil  one,  and  one  of  good ; 
065  From  thence  the  cup  of  mortal  man  he  fills, 

Blessings  to  these,  to  those  distributes  ills ; 

To  most  he  mingles  both :  the  wretch  decreed 

To  taste  the  bad,  unmix'd,  is  curst  indeed ; 

Pursued  by  wrongs,  by  meagre  famine  driv'n, 
G70  He  wanders,  outcast  both  of  earth  and  heav'n. 

The  happiest  taste  not  happiness  sincere, 

But  find  the  cordial  draught  is  dash'd  with  care. 

Who  more  than  Peleus  shone  in  wealth  and  pow'r  ? 

What  stars  concurring  bless'd  his  natal  hour  ! 
(>75  A  realm,  a  goddess,  to  his  wishes  giv'n, 

Grac'd  by  the  gods  with  all  the  gifts  of  heav'n ! 

One  evil  yet  o'ertakes  his  latest  day  ; 

No  race  succeeding  to  imperial  sway : 

An  only  son !  and  he  (alas  !)  ordain'd 
080  To  fall  untimely  in  a  foreign  land ! 

See  him  in  Troy  the  pious  care  decline 

Of  his  weak  age,  to  live  the  curse  of  thine  ! 

Thou  too,  old  man,  hast  happier  days  beheld ; 

In  riches  once,  in  children  once  excell'd ; 
G85  Extended  Phrygia  own'd  thy  ample  reign, 

And  all  fair  Lesbos'  blissful  seats  contain, 

And  all  wide  Hellespont's  unmeasur'd  main. 

But  since  the  god  his  hand  has  pleas'd  to  turn, 

And  fill  thy  measure  from  his  bitter  urn, 
(JOO  What  sees  the  sun  but  hapless  heroes'  falls  ? 

War,  and  the  blood  of  men,  surround  thy  walls ! 

What  must  be,  must  be.     Bear  thy  lot,  nor  shed 

These  unavailing  sorrows  o'er  the  dead ; 

Thou  canst  not  call  him  from  the  Stygian  shore, 
695  But  them,  alas  !  mayst  live,  to  suffer  more  !  " 

To  whom  the  king  :  "  0  favour'd  of  the  skies  ! 


100  THE   ILIAD 

Here  let  me  grow  to  earth !  since  Hector  lies 

On  the  bare  beach,  deprived  of  obsequies. 

Oh  give  me  Hector  !  to  my  eyes  restore 
700  His  corse,  and  take  the  gifts  !  I  ask  no  more : 

Thou,  as  thou  mayst,  these  boundless  stores  enjoy  ; 

Safe  mayst  thou  sail,  and  turn  thy  wrath  from  Troy  ; 

So  shall  thy  pity  and  forbearance  give 

A  weak  old  man  to  see  the  light  and  live  ! " 
705      "  Move  me  110  more,"  (Achilles  thus  replies, 

While  kindling  anger  sparkled  in  his  eyes)  ; 

"  Nor  seek  by  tears  my  steady  soul  to  bend ; 

To  yield  thy  Hector  I  myself  intend  : 

For  know,  from  Jove  my  goddess  mother  came 
710  (Old  Ocean's  daughter,  silver-footed  dame)  ; 

Nor  com'st  thou  but  by  heav'n,  nor  com'st  alone ; 

Some  god  impels  with  courage  not  thy  own  : 

No  human  hand  the  weighty  gates  unbarr'd. 

Nor  could  the  boldest  of  our  youth  have  dar'd 
715  To  pass  our  outworks,  or  elude  the  guard. 

Cease ;  lest,  neglectful  of  high  Jove's  command, 

I  shew  thee,  king,  thou  tread'st  on  hostile  land ! 

Release  my  knees,  thy  suppliant  arts  give  o'er, 

And  shake  the  purpose  of  my  soul  no  more." 
720      The  sire  obey'd  him,  trembling  and  o'eraw'cl. 

Achilles  like  a  lion  rush'd  abroad ; 

Automedoii  and  Alcimus  attend, 

Whom  most  he  honour 'd  since  he  lost  his  friend  ; 

These  to  unyoke  the  mules  and  horses  went, 
725  And  led  the  hoary  herald  to  the  tent ; 

Next,  heap'd  on  high,  the  num'rous  presents  bear 

(Great  Hector's  ransom)  from  the  polish'd  car. 

Two  splendid  mantles  and  a  carpet  spread 

They  leave,  to  cover  and  enwrap  the  dead : 
730  Then  call  the  handmaids,  with  assistant  toil 

To  wash  the  body,  and  anoint  with  oil, 


BOOK    XXIV  101 

Apart  from  Priam  ;  lest  th'  unhappy  sire, 

Provok'd  to  passion,  once  more  rouse  to  ire 

The  stern  Pelides ;  and  nor  sacred  age 
735  Nor  Jove's  command  should  check  the  rising  rage. 

This  done,  the  garments  o'er  the  corse  they  spread ; 

Achilles  lifts  it  to  the  fun'ral  bed  : 

Then,  while  the  body  on  the  car  they  laid, 

He  groans,  and  calls  on  lov'd  Patroclus'  shade : 
740      "  If,  in  that  gloom  which  never  light  must  know, 

The  deeds  of  mortals  touch  the  ghosts  below, 

0  friend  !  forgive  me,  that  I  thus  fulfil 

(Restoring  Hector)  heav'n's  uiiquestion'd  will. 

The  gifts  the  father  gave  be  ever  thine, 
745  To  grace  thy  manes  and  adorn  thy  shrine." 
He  said,  and  entring  took  his  seat  of  state, 

Where  full  before  him  rev'rend  Priam  sate  : 

To  whom,  compos'd,  the  godlike  chief  begun  : 

"  Lo  !  to  thy  pray'r  restor'd,  thy  breathless  son 
750  Extended  on  the  fun'ral  couch  he  lies ; 

And  soon  as  morning  paints  the  eastern  skies, 

The  sight  is  granted  to  thy  longing  eyes. 

But  now  the  peaceful  hours  of  sacred  night 

Demand  refection,  and  to  rest  invite  : 
755  Nor  thou,  O  father  !  thus  consum'd  with  woe, 

The  common  cares  that  nourish  life  forego. 

Not  thus  did  Niobe,  of  form  divine, 

A  parent  once,  whose  sorrows  equal'd  thine  : 

Six  youthful  sons,  as  many  blooming  maids, 
760  In  one  sad  day  beheld  the  Stygian  shades ; 

These  by  Apollo's  silver  bow  were  slain, 

Those  Cynthia's  arrows  stretch'd  upon  the  plain. 

So  was  her  pride  chastis'd  by  wrath  divine, 

Who  match'd  her  own  with  bright  Latona's  line  ; 
765  But  two  the  goddess,  twelve  the  queen  enjoy'd  ; 

Those  boasted  twelve  th'  avenging  two  destroy'd. 


102  THE   ILIAD 

Steep'd  in  their  blood,  and  in  the  dust  outspread, 
Nine  days  neglected  lay  expos'd  the  dead  5 
None  by  to  weep  them,  to  inhume  them  none 

770  (For  Jove  had  turn'd  the  nation  all  to  stone)  : 
The  gods  themselves,  at.  length  relenting,  gave 
Th'  unhappy  race  the  honours  of  a  grave. 
Herself  a  rock  (for  such  was  heavVs  high  will), 
Through  deserts  wild  now  pours  a  weeping  rill ; 

775  Where  round  the  bed  whence  Acheloiis  springs, 
The  wat'ry  fairies  dance  in  mazy  rings : 
There  high  on  Sipylus  his  shaggy  brow 
She  stands,  her  own  sad  monument  of  woe ; 
The  rock  for  ever  lasts,  the  tears  for  ever  flow. 

780  Such  griefs,  0  king  !  have  other  parents  known  ; 
Eemember  theirs,  and  mitigate  thy  own. 
The  care  of  heav'n  thy  Hector  has  appeared ; 
Nor  shall  he  lie  unwept  and  uninterr'd ; 
Soon  may  thy  aged  cheeks  in  tears  be  drown' d, 

785  And  all  the  eyes  of  Ilion  stream  around." 

He  said,  and  rising,  chose  the  victim  ewe 
With  silver  fleece,  which  his  attendants  slew. 
The  limbs  they  sever  from  the  reeking  hide, 
With  skill  prepare  them,  and  in  parts  divide : 

790  Each  on  the  coals  the  sep'rate  morsels  lays, 
And,  hasty,  snatches  from  the  rising  blaze. 
With  bread  the  glittering  canisters  they  load 
Which  round  the  board  Automedon  bestow'd : 
The  chief  himself  to  each  his  portion  plac'd, 

795  And  each,  indulging,  shar'd  in  sweet  repast. 
When  now  the  rage  of  hunger  was  repressed, 
The  wond'ring  hero  eyes  his  royal  guest ; 
No  less  the  royal  guest  the  hero  eyes, 
His  godlike  aspect  and  majestic  size ; 

800  Here  youthful  grace  and  noble  fire  engage, 
And  there  the  mild  benevolence  of  a^e. 


BOOK   XXIV  103 

Thus  gazing  long,  the  silence  neither  broke 

(A  solemn  scene  !)  ;  at  length  the  father  spoke  : 

•"Permit  me  now,  belov'd  of  Jove,  to  steep 
805  My  careful  temples  in  the  dew  of  sleep : 

For  since  the  day  that  number'd  with  the  dead 

My  hapless  son,  the  dust  has  been  my  bed, 

Soft  sleep  a  stranger  to  my  weeping  eyes, 

My  only  food,  my  sorrows  and  my  sighs ! 
8io  Till  now,  encourag'd  by  the  grace  you  give, 

I  share  thy  banquet,  and  consent  to  live.'7 
V^ith  that,  Achilles  bade  prepare  the  bed, 

With  purple  soft  and  shaggy  carpets  spread ; 

Forth  by  the  flaming  lights  they  bend  their  way, 
815  And  place  the  couches,  and  the  coverings  lay. 

Then  he :  "  Now,  father,  sleep ;  but  sleep  not  here ; 

Consult  thy  safety,  and  forgive  my  fear 

Lest  any  Argive  (at  this  hour  awake, 

To  ask  our  counsel  or  our  orders  take), 
820  Approaching  sudden  to  our  open  tent, 

Perchance  behold  thee  and  our  grace  prevent. 

Should  such  report  thy  honour'd  person  here, 

The  king  of  men  the  ransom  might  defer. 

But  say  with  speed,  if  aught  of  thy  desire 
825  Remains  unask'd,  what  time  the  rites  require 

T?  inter  thy  Hector  ?     For  so  long  we  stay 

Our  slaughtering  arm,  and  bid  the  hosts  obey." 

"  If  then  thy  will  permit "  (the  monarch  said) 

"  To  finish  all  due  honours  to  the  dead, 
830  This  of  thy  grace  accord  :  to  thee  are  known 

The  fears  of  Ilion,  clos'd  within  her  town ; 

And  at  what  distance  from  our  walls  aspire 

The  hills  of  Ide  and  forests  for  the  fire. 

Nine  days  to  vent  our  sorrows  I  request ; 
8:55  The  tenth  shall  see  the  f un'ral  and  the  feast ; 

The  next  to  raise  his  monument  be  giv'n ; 


104  THE   ILIAD 

The  twelfth  we  war,  if  war  be  doom'd  by  heav'n  ! " 
"This  thy  request"  (replied  the  chief)  "  enjoy : 

Till  then  our  arms  suspend  the  fall  of  Troy." 
840  Then  gave  his  hand  at  parting,  to  prevent 

The  old  man's  fears,  and  turn'd  within  the  tent, 

Where  fair  Brisei's,  bright  in  blooming  charms, 

Expects  her  hero  with  desiring  arms. 

But  in  the  porch  the  king  and  herald  rest, 
845  Sad  dreams  of  care  yet  wand'ring  in  their  breast. 
Now  gods  and  men  the  gifts  of  sleep  pa.rtake ; 

Industrious  Hermes  only  was  awake, 

The  king's  return  revolving  in  his  mind, 

To  pass  the  ramparts  and  the  watch  to  blind. 
850  The  pow'r  descending  hover'd  o'er  his  head, 

And,  "  Sleep'st  thou,  father  ?  "  (thus  the  vision  said) 

"  Now  dost  thou  sleep  when  Hector  is  restored  ? 

Nor  fear  the  Grecian  foes  nor  Grecian  lord  ? 

Thy  presence  here  shou'd  stern  Atrides  see, 
855  Thy  still-surviving  sons  may  sue  for  thee ; 

May  offer  all  thy  treasures  yet  contain 

To  spare  thy  age  ;  and  offer  all  in  vain." 

Wak'd  with  the  word,  the  trembling  sire  arose, 

And  rais'd  his  friend  :  the  god  before  him  goes  : 
800  He  joins  the  mules,  directs  them  with  his  hand, 

And  moves  in  silence  thro'  the  hostile  land. 

When  now  to  Xanthus'  yellow  stream  they  drove 

(Xanthus,  immortal  progeny  of  Jove), 

The  winged  deity  forsook  their  view, 
805  And  in  a  moment  to  Olympus  flew. 

Now  shed  Aurora  round  her  saffron  ray, 

Sprung  through  the  gates  of  light,  and  gave  the  day. 

Charg'd  with  their  mournful  load  to  Ilion  go 

The  sage  and  king,  majestically  slow. 
870  Cassandra  first  beholds  from  Ilion's  spire 

The  sad  procession  of  her  hoary  sire ; 


BOOK   XXIV  105 

Then,  as  the  pensive  pomp  advanced  more  near, 

Her  breathless  brother  stretch'd  upon  the  bier. 

A  show'r  of  tears  overflows  her  beauteous  eyes, 
875  Alarming  thus  all  Ilion  with  her  cries : 

"  Turn  here  your  steps  and  here  your  eyes  employ, 

Ye  wretched  daughters  and  ye  sons  of  Troy ! 

If  e'er  ye  rush'd  in  crowds  with  vast  delight 

To  hail  your  hero  glorious  from  the  fight, 
880  Now  meet  him  dead,  and  let  your  sorrows  flow ! 

Your  common  triumph  and  your  common  woe." 
In  thronging  crowds  they  issue  to  the  plains, 

Nor  man  nor  woman  in  the  walls  remains : 

In  ev'ry  face  the  self-same  grief  is  shown, 
885  And  Troy  sends  forth  one  universal  groan. 

At  Scaea's  gates  they  meet  the  mourning  wain, 

Hang  on  the  wheels,  and  grovel  round  the  slain. 

The  wife  and  mother,  frantic  with  despair, 

Kiss  his  pale  cheek  and  rend  their  scatter' d  hair : 
8(.)0  Thus  wildly  wailing,  at  the  gates  they  lay ; 

And  there  had  sigh'd  and  sorrowed  out  the  day ; 

But  godlike  Priam  from  the  chariot  rose : 

"  Forbear  "  (he  cried)  "  this  violence  of  woes  ; 

First  to  the  palace  let  the  car  proceed, 
895  Then  pour  your  boundless  sorrows  o'er  the  dead.'7 
The  waves  of  people  at  his  word  divide ; 

Slow  rolls  the  chariot  through  the  following  tide  : 

Ev'n  to  the  palace  the  sad  pomp  they  wait : 

They  weep,  and  place  him  on  the  bed  of  state. 
900  A  melancholy  choir  attend  around 

With  plaintive  sighs  and  music's  solemn  sound : 

Alternately  they  sing,  alternate  flow 

Th'  obedient  tears,  melodious  in  their  woe ; 

While  deeper  sorrows  groan  from  each  full  heart, 
905  And  nature  speaks  at  ev'ry  pause  of  art. 

First  to  the  corse  the  weeping  consort  flew  ; 


106  THE    ILIAD 

Around  his  neck  her  milk-white  arms  she  threw : 

And,  "  0  my  Hector !  0  my  lord  !  "  she  cries ; 

"  Snatch'd  in  thy  bloom  from  these  desiring  eyes ! 
910  Thou  to  the  dismal  realms  for  ever  gone ! 

And  I  abandoned,  desolate,  alone ! 

An  only  son,  once  comfort  of  our  pains, 

Sad  product  now  of  hapless  love,  remains  ! 

Never  to  manly  age  that  son  shall  rise, 
915  Or  with  increasing  graces  glad  my  eyes ; 

For  Ilion  now  (her  great  defender  slain) 

Shall  sink,  a  smoking  ruin,  on  the  plain. 

Who  now  protects  her  wives  with  guardian  care  ? 

Who  saves  her  infants  from  the  rage  of  war  ? 
920  Now  hostile  fleets  must  waft  those  infants  o'er 

(Those  wives  must  wait  'em)  to  a  foreign  shore ! 

Thou  too,  my  son !  to  barb'rous  climes  slialt  go, 

The  sad  companion  of  thy  mother's  woe  ; 

Driv'n  hence  a  slave  before  the  victor's  sword, 
925  Condemn'd  to  toil  for  some  inhuman  lord : 

Or  else  some  Greek,  whose  father  prest  the  plain, 

Or  son,  or  brother,  by  great  Hector  slain, 

In  Hector's  blood  his  vengeance  shall  enjoy, 

And  hurl  thee  headlong  from  the  tow'rs  of  Troy. 
930  For  thy  stern  father  never  spar'd  a  foe  : 

Thence  all  these  tears,  and  all  this  scene  of  woe ! 

Thence,  many  evils  his  sad  parents  bore ; 

His  parents  many,  but  his  consort  more. 

Why  gav'st  thou  not  to  me  thy  dying  hand  ? 
935  And  why  receiv'd  not  I  thy  last  command  ? 

Some  word  thou  wouldst  have  spoke,  which,  sadly  dear, 

My  soul  might  keep,  or  utter  with  a  tear ; 

Which  never,  never  could  be  lost  in  air ; 

Fix'd  in  my  heart,  and  oft  repeated  there  !  " 
940      Thus  to  her  weeping  maids  she  makes  her  moan ; 

Her  weeping  handmaids  echo  groan  for  groan. 


BOOK   XXIV  107 

The  mournful  mother  next  sustains  her  part : 

"  0  thou,  the  best,  the  clearest  to  my  heart ! 

Of  all  nay  race  thou  most  by  heav'n  approved, 
945  And  by  th'  immortals  ev'n  in  death  belov'd ! 

While  all  my  other  sons  in  barb'rous  bands 

Achilles  bound,  and  sold  to  foreign  lands, 

This  felt  no  chains,  but  went,  a  glorious  ghost, 

Free  and  a  hero,  to  the  Stygian  coast. 
950  Sentenced,  'tis  true,  by  his  inhuman  doom, 

Thy  noble  corse  was  dragg'd  around  the  tomb 

(The  tomb  of  him  thy  warlike  arm  had  slain) ; 

JJngen'rous  insult,  impotent  and  vain ! 

Yet  glow'st  thou  fresh  with  ev'ry  living  grace, 
955  No  mark  of  pain  or  violence  of  face ; 

Eosy  and  fair !  as  Phoebus'  silver  bow 

Dismissed  thee  gently  to  the  shades  below." 
Thus  spoke  the  dame,  and  melted  into  tears. 

Sad  Helen  next  in  pomp  of  grief  appears : 
9GO  Fast  from  the  shining  sluices  of  her  eyes 

Fall  the  round  crystal  drops,  while  thus  she  cries : 
"Ah,  dearest  friend !  in  whom  the  gods  had  join'd 

The  mildest  manners  with  the  bravest  mind ; 

Now  twice  ten  years  (unhappy  years)  are  o'er 
965  Since  Paris  brought  me  to  the  Trojan  shore 

(Oh  had  I  perish'd,  ere  that  form  divine 

Seduc'd  this  soft,  this  easy  heart  of  mine  !  )  ; 

Yet  was  it  ne'er  my  fate  from  thee  to  find 

A  deed  ungentle  or  a  word  unkind  : 
970  When  others  curst  the  auth'ress  of  their  woe, 

Thy  pity  check'd  my  sorrows  in  their  flow : 

If  some  proud  brother  ey'd  me  with  disdain, 

Or  scornful  sister  with  her  sweeping  train, 

Thy  gentle  accents  soften'd  all  my  pain. 
975  For  thee  I  mourn ;  and  mourn  myself  in  thee, 

The  wretched  source  of  all  this  misery  ! 


108  THE   ILIAD 

The  fate  I  caus'd  for  ever  I  bemoan ; 

Sad  Helen  has  no  friend  now  thou  art  gone ! 

Through  Troy's  wide  streets  abandoned  shall  I  roam, 
980  In  Troy  deserted,  as  abhorred  at  home ! " 

So  spoke  the  fair  with  sorrow-streaming  eye ; 

Distressful  beauty  melts  each  stander-by ; 

On  all  around  th'  infectious  sorrow  grows ; 

But  Priam  check'd  the  torrent  as  it  rose : 
985  "  Perform,  ye  Trojans !  what  the  rites  require, 

And  fell  the  forests  for  a  fun'ral  pyre ; 

Twelve  days,  nor  foes  nor  secret  ambush  dread ; 

Achilles  grants  these  honours  to  the  dead." 

He  spoke ;  and  at  his  word  the  Trojan  train 
900  Their  mules  and  oxen  harness  to  the  wain, 

Pour  through  the  gates,  and,  felFd  from  Ida's  crown, 

Roll  back  the  gathered  forests  to  the  town. 

These  toils  continue  nine  succeeding  days, 

And  high  in  air  a  sylvan  structure  raise. 
995  But  when  the  tenth  fair  morn  began  to  shine, 

Forth  to  the  pile  was  borne  the  man  divine, 

And  plac'd  aloft:  while  all,  with  streaming  eyes, 

Beheld  the  flames  and  rolling  smokes  arise. 

Soon  as  Aurora,  daughter  of  the  dawn, 
1000  With  rosy  lustre  streak'd  the  dewy  lawn, 

Again  the  mournful  crowds  surround  the  pyre, 

And  quench  with  wine  the  yet-remaining  fire. 

The  snowy  bones  his  friends  and  brothers  place 

(With  tears  collected)  in  a  golden  vase ; 
1005  The  golden  vase  in  purple  palls  they  roll'd 

Of  softest  texture  and  inwrought  with  gold. 

Last,  o'er  the  urn  the  sacred  earth  they  spread, 

And  rais'd  the  tomb,  memorial  of  the  dead 

(Strong  guards  and  spies,  till  all  the  rites  were  done, 
1010  Watch'd  from  the  rising  to  the  setting  sun). 

All  Troy  then  moves  to  Priam's  court  again, 


BOOK   XXIV  109 


A  solemn,  silent,  melancholy  train : 
Assembled  there,  from  pious  toil  they  rest ; 
And  sadly  shar'd  the  last  sepulchral  feast. 
1015      Such  honours  Ilion  to  her  hero  paid, 

And  peaceful  slept  the  mighty  Hector's  shade. 


NOTES 

ARGUMENTS 

The  student  should  read  the  explanatory  portion  of  the  Introduc- 
tion, particularly  pp.  vii-xiii,  and  the  synopsis  of  the  entire  plot  on 
pp.  3-16,  before  he  begins  the  reading  of  Book  I.  This  synopsis  of 
the  Argument  (pp.  3-16)  is  reprinted  from  Pope's  original  edition. 

Page  3  Calchas  is  the  chief  priest  and  prophet  in  the  Greek  army 
besieging  Troy. 

Thetis,  the  sea-nymph,  is  Achilles'  mother.  To  be  near  her 
son,  perhaps,  she  has  left  her  mortal  husband,  and  returned 
to  the  palace  of  her  father,  in  the  depths  of  the  ^Egean  Sea. 

Jupiter,  i.e.  Zeus,  king  of  gods :  Juno,  Hera,  his  wife  :  Vulcan, 
Hephaestus,  the  smith-god.  It  is  perhaps  well,  even  in  read- 
ing aloud,  to  substitute  the  true  Greek  names  of  the 
divinities. 

4  Ulysses.     Odysseus,  whose  home  return  is  described   in   the 

Odyssey.     In  such  cases  as  this  the  Romans  have  not  sub- 
stituted another  hero,  but  simply  mispronounced  the  Greek 
name. 
Paris.     Also  called  Alexander;  the  guilty  cause  of  the  war. 

5  Venus.     Aphrodite,  goddess  of  love,  who  especially  protects 

Paris  and  Helen.     JEneas  is  her  son  by  a  mortal,  the  Tro- 
jan Anchises. 

Minerva.  Athene  or  Pallas,  goddess  of  wisdom  and  war,  Zeus' 
favorite  daughter,  who  alone  may  borrow  his  arms. 

TEneas.  Kinsman  and  son-in-law  of  King  Priam,  second  in 
prowess  to  Hector.  Homer  seems  to  represent  him  as  out- 
living the  siege,  reviving  the  Trojan  power,  and  founding  a 
long  line  of  local  kings.  Virgil  in  the  great  Latin  epic,  the 
JEneid,  makes  JEneas  migrate  to  Italy,  where  he  becomes 
the  progenitor  of  the  Romans. 
Ill 


112  NOTES 

Mars.     Ares,  the  war-god. 

Pergamus.     The   citadel   of.  Troy,    on   which    the   temple   of 

Pallas  and  the  royal  palaces  stand. 

7  Tartarus.  A  dark  region  beneath  the  abode  of  the  dead, 
where  Zeus  holds  imprisoned  his  own  father,  Kronos,  and 
his  kinsmen,  the  Titans. 

10     Neptune.     Poseidon,  Zeus'  brother,  lord  of  the  sea. 
16    Mercury.    Hermes,  the  messenger  of  the  gods.     In  the  other 
books  of  the  Iliad,  however,  only  Iris  has  this  duty. 

BOOK  I 

Verses  1-2    These  verses  have  been  printed  in  most  or  all  editions 
since  Pope's  death,  thus  : 

"  Achilles'  wrath,  to  Greece  the  direful  spring 
Of  woes  unnumber'd,  heav'nly  goddess,  sing." 

Pope  certainly  did  not  so  write  in  1715,  and  whoever  made 
the  change  made  it  for  the  worse.  The  subject  is  announced 
in  the  first  word  of  the  Greek  text,  menin :  wrath.  Pope 
rightly  imitated  this  arrangement.  "  Heav'nly  goddess," 
again,  is  a  wearisome  repetition.  It  is  pleasanter  to  believe 
that  Pope's  editors  made  these  changes  after  his  death. 
2  goddess.  No  doubt  the  Muse,  who  is  invoked  in  the  first  line 
of  the  Odyssey.  But  the  number  nine  for  the  Muses,  and 
their  names,  probably  first  appeared  in  Hesiod,  a  somewhat 
later  poet.  More  modern  epics  generally  have  a  similar 
invocation.  See  especially  the  beginning  of  Paradise  Lost, 
with  its  combined  Hellenic  imagery  and  Christian  faith. 
Virgil  began,  "  Arms  and  a  hero  I  sing,"  invoking  the  Muse 
later. 

7  Atrides.     Son  of  Atreus :   either  Menelaus,  or,  as  here,  Aga- 

memnon. 

8  Notice  the  Alexandrine,  or  twelve-syllable  line,  occasionally 

used  for  emphasis. 

The  first  e  of  sovereign  is  "elided."  Pope  does  not  permit 
trisyllabic  feet,  so  any  superfluous  vowel  must  be  carefully 
effaced.  Compare  vss.  13,  reverend;  100,  pow'r ;  208,  £'; 
209,  tli' ;  etc.  English  poetry  since  Coleridge  is  much  less 


BOOK  I  113 

rigid  as  to  the  exact  number  of  syllables.  Indeed,  Pope  is 
far  more  precise,  and  monotonous,  than  Shakespeare  or 
Milton.  For  a  rare  exception,  see  vs.  17,  where  the  i  of 
suppliant  could  not  be  cut  out,  and  we  must  scan 

/      W     W     W     /      W      /      W       /      W       /  . 

11  Latona,  Leto.     Her  son  by  Zeus,  Apollo,  is  always  in  harmony 

with  his  father,  is  the  god  of  oracles,  the  archer,  probably 
by  origin  a  sun-god. 

12  A  typical  example  of  Pope's  worst  rhetoric.     Homer  would 

not  mention  mountains  unless  he  really  wished  us  to  see 
them.  Pope  saw  none,  but  simply  chose  this  as  a  resound- 
ing phrase.  Homer's  words,  "  the  people  were  perishing," 
needed  no  extravagant  metaphor  to  emphasize  them. 

15  Chryses'  speech  is  curt,  fearless,  and  rather  threatening  than 
submissive.  "  Lowly  bending  down,"  is  merely  Pope's 
notion  of  etiquette  in  the  royal  presence.  "  Laurel  crown  " 
is  quite  out  of  place.  Homer  knows  nothing  of  the  nymph 
Daphne,  wooed  too  ardently  by  Apollo  and  transformed 
into  the  laurel  to  escape  him.  This  is  a  later  invention  to 
explain  the  prominence  of  the  laurel  in  Apollo's  worship. 
Chryses,  as  a  suppliant,  simply  carries  his  priestly  fillets, 
wound  about  his  staff. 

27-30     What  he  really  says  in  Homer  is  merely : 

"  Ransom  accept  from  me,  and  release  my  daughter  beloved, 
Dreading  the  wrath  of  the  son  of  Zeus,  far-shooting  Apollo." 

30    Phcebus,  an  epithet,  often  a  name,  for  Apollo. 

32     the   fair.     The   fair   lady,  Chryseis.      Such   phrases   are   the 

common  stock  of  courtly  gallantry,  and  we  must  not  judge 

Pope's   personal  taste   too  much  by  his  free  use  of  them. 

Homer  actually  makes  no  allusion  to  Chryseis  here,  saying 

only : 

"Bade  him  revere  the  priest,  and  accept  the  munificent  ransom." 

35  The  poet  usually  treats  Agamemnon  with  the  respectful 
tone  due  to  a  king ;  but  the  reader  will  notice  that  his  words 
and  acts  are  almost  always  rash,  foolish,  or  wicked. 

45  Argos  is,  in  Homer,  not  a  city,  but  an  early  name  for  the 
Peloponnesus,  or  the  greater  part  of  it,  over  which  Aga- 


L14  NOTES 

inernnon  rules.  His  capital  is  Mycenae.  Very  early  in  the  his- 
torical period  Mycenae  was  overthrown  by  its  neighbor  city 
Argos,  which  "annexed"  even  its  legends.  Hence  arose 
much  confusion,  both  in  Greek  and  in  modern  poetry. 

52  Is  wholly  Pope's.  Apollo  is  apparently,  by  origin,  a  sun- 
god  ;  but  the  Homeric  Greeks  were  probably  not  conscious 
of  it,  if  it  was  so.  In  many  relations  he  is  entirely  discon- 
nected with  the  sun,  who  is  called  Helios  and  Hyperion. 
In  this  scene  his  arrows  seem  to  be  suggested  by  the  fierce 
rays  of  the  midsu miner  sun,  which  might  well  breed  a  pes- 
tilence in  such  a  camp  and  on  such  a  field  of  battle.  But 
the  Greeks  took  a  personal  interest  in  their  gods,  collecting 
and  retelling  good  stories  about  them,  which  are  not  to  be 
explained  away  as  parables  from  phenomena  in  the  sky,  or 
in  any  one  simple  fashion.  Some  myths  are  crude,  some 
beautiful.  Their  origins  are  as  varied  as  the  experience  and 
thoughts  of  man.  The  work  of  savage,  philosopher,  poet, 
historian,  is  embedded  in  them. 

53-56  Smintheus  is  a  rare  epithet  of  Apollo.  Tenedos  is  an  island 
near  the  Troad.  The  towns,  Cilia  and  Chrysa,  seem  to  have 
been  near  Troy. 

G5-66  Homer  only  says,  "  and  like  to  the  night  he  came."  Even 
that  would  be  strange  for  a  sun-god !  Here  is  no  nature- 
myth,  but  a  being  thoroughly  alive  and  human.  We  can 
only  wish  all  the  Homeric  gods  were  as  dignified,  as  right- 
eous, as  divine,  as  Apollo  here  appears. 

72     Cremation  is  the  ordinary  custom  in  Homer. 

74  Hera,  like  Pallas,  always  favors  the  Greeks.  The  story  of  the 
strife  of  these  two  goddesses  with  Aphrodite  for  the  prize  of 
beauty,  which  Paris  awards  to  the  goddess  of  love,  is  appar- 
ently later  than  Homer.  The  one  awkward  and  slight  allu- 
sion to  that  tale,  early  in  Book  XXIV.,  is  pretty  clearly  a  late 
interpolation  in  Homer's  text.  See  note  on  XXIV.  38-41. 
Every  direct  mention  of  Achilles  should  be  carefully  noted, 
since  on  his  character  the  whole  plot  turns.  Here  we  first 
see  him  leaping  forth  as  fearless  champion  for  the  general 
safety.  The  whole  army  is  called  together,  apparently, 
though  only  the  chief  generals  are  expressly  mentioned  in 
the  next  scene. 


BOOK  I  115 

81-82  Thfe  origin  of  such  rhymes  is  far  from  clear.  These  words 
may  both  really  have  had  at  some  time  the  vowel  sound  of 
far.  So  love  and  move  may  once  have  been  real  rhymes. 
Some  critics  contend  that  an  occasional  imperfect  rhyme  is 
excusable,  or  even  desirable,  as  an  escape  from  monotony. 

94  Pope  quite  frequently  omits  minor  statements  which  are,  from 
his  point  of  view,  uninteresting  or  incredible.  Thus  Homer 
added  here : 

"  Calchas  had  led  the  Achaians'  ships  to  the  land  of  the  Trojans, 
Thro'  his  prophetic  power,  that  Phoebus  Apollo  accorded." 

97  Calchas  intimates  that  the  truth  may  enrage  Agamemnon. 
Achilles  promptly  agrees  to  protect  the  priest,  even  against 
the  supreme  commander. 

119-120     For  the  rhyme,  see  note  on  vss.  81-82. 

124  black-ey'd  is  quite  wrong.  The  Homeric  types  of  ideal  beauty 
are  usually  fair,  not  dark.  The  word  used  here  probably 
means  either  "  bright-eyed,"  or  "  with  quick-glancing  eyes." 

131  Agamemnon's  folly  here  is  especially  plain.  The  priest  is 
blamed  for  the  events  he  foresees,  or  for  the  feelings  of  the 
gods,  which  he  rsveals  to  blinder  men  !  Still  the  very  blind- 
ness, violence,  and  injustice  of  the  commander  give  him  a 
very  large  share  in  the  tragic  story. 

143  Clytaemnestra.  Agamemnon's  wife,  who  murdered  him  on  his 
return  from  the  long  war.  She  is  fitly  said  to  have  been 
Helen's  sister.  She  is  the  most  splendid  and  terrible  figure 
in  the  masterpiece  of  ancient  tragedy,  the  Agamemnon  of 
JEschylus.  The  outline,  at  least,  of  her  career  must  have 
been  familiar  to  the  poet's  original  auditors,  who  would 
realize  that  Agamemnon's  shameless  words  in  this  passage 
are  to  be  fearfully  atoned  for.  Of  course  there  is  constant 
danger  of  applying  our  own  ideas  of  morality  to  Homer's 
magnificent  but  half-savage  people.  These  ill-fated  women, 
Chryseis  and  Briseis,  are  thought  of  as  the  lawful  spoil  of 
their  captors.  Agamemnon  is  simply  insisting  on  the  com- 
mander's due  share.  Still,  the  poet  shows  an  unmistakable 
feeling  for  the  doom  of  the  captive  and  slave,  especially  of 
Y  helpless  women  ;  and  the  vengeance  of  the  wronged  wife  is 
^a  motive  perfectly  natural  in  any  age  or  country.  Indeed, 
Agamemnon  is  wronging  Achilles  almost  exactly  as  Paris 


116  NOTES 

had  injured  Menelaus,  and  Achilles  himself  afterward  re- 
marks on  this  in  a  burst  of  indignant  eloquence  (Book  IX.). 
In  general,  Homer's  characters  are  to  be  admired,  or  con- 
demned, on  broad  human  lines  —  the  more  as  they  must 
have  been  essentially  created  by  the  poet  himself. 

161-162  One  of  Pope's  best  insertions.  Notice  the  alliteration 
and  the  neat  antithesis  between  tyrants  and  slaves.  The 
rhyme  is  agreeable  in  sound,  and  falls  on  words  important 
enough  to  bear  it.  As  rhetoric  it  is  masterly.  Pope  smiled. 

174     In  such  a  line  Pope's  printer  uses  capitals  very  effectively  : 

"  A  Treasure  worthy  Her  and  worthy  Me." 

In  general,  the  capital  letters  are  often  helpful  to  emphasis 
or  sense.  Thus,  in  vs.  210,  the  adjective  is  used  substan- 

tively : 

"  But  thine,  Ungrateful;  " 

and  see  especially  XXII.  525,  a  rather  blind  line,  where 
the  reading, 

"  Strong  Affliction  gives  the  Feeble  Force," 

makes  more  clear  the  true  meaning,  viz.  that  desperation 
lends  strength  even  to  feeble  mortals. 

177-178  Like  King  Creon's  in  Sophocles'  Antigone,  Agamem- 
non's violent  threats  go  far  beyond  even  his  rash  actions. 
Here  he  defies,  in  a  breath,  the  three  most  dangerous  men  in 
the  entire  host. 

185  See  note  on  vs.  32.  "  Sable "  is  Pope's  finer  word  for 
"  black,"  a  favorite  epithet  for  the  Homeric  ships. 

187  Creta's  king  is  Idomeneus,  next  in  age  to  Nestor  among  the 
chiefs  of  the  council.  See  Introduction,  p.  xi. 

199  The  "  decree  "  is  not  Homeric.  We  cannot  answer  the  ques- 
tion. Our  knowledge  is  too  fragmentary.  Later  myth 
made  all  the  princes  old  suitors  of  Helen,  bound  by  oath 
beforehand  to  accept,  and  protect  in  all  his  rights,  which- 
ever of  them  should  be  selected  as  her  husband.  Achilles 
here  gives  the  impression  that  he  came  of  his  own  free  will, 
from  some  chivalric  or  friendly  feeling,  to  help  regain 
Helen.  Even  so,  desertion  might  be  treason  when  once  war 
had  been  joined.  Homer  more  probably  thought  of  Achilles 
as  a  sort  of  feudal  vassal  to  Agamemnon,  owing  him  mili- 


BOOK   I  117 

tary  service,  but  with  full  independence  within  his  own  do- 
main, which  includes,  of  course,  his  actual  camping-ground. 
Scott  has  a  similar  set  of  characters  in  the  Talisman,  Rich- 
ard of  England  being  the  Achilles. 

The  longing  for  home  in  this  passage  is  a  broadly  human 
touch.  It  appears  again,  with  the  added  mention  of 
Achilles'  loving,  helpless  old  father,  waiting  in  vain  for 
his  son's  return,  in  the  grand  scene  where  Achilles  and 
Priam  meet,  XXIV.  671-682. 

208-209     See  note  on  vs.  8. 

210     See  note  on  vs.  174. 

221  Here  Pope's  love  for  antithesis  leads  him  to  insert  a  line 
Achilles  could  never  have  uttered.  Of  course  Homer  also 
uses  antithesis,  when  it  adds  natural  force  to  his  statements. 
For  instance,  in  vss.  217-218  the  translation  is  entirely 
justified  by  the  Greek  text. 

249-250  Wholly  Pope's.  The  kings  in  Homer  are  "Zeus-nour- 
ished," "  Zeus-descended,"  etc.,  but  Achilles  no  less  so  than 
Agamemnon.  The  latter  simply  threatens  to  prove  in  mem- 
orable fashion  "  How  much  stronger  am  I  than  thou." 

258  The  contest  in  Achilles'  mind  is  Homeric  :  the  "  rising  tem- 
pest "  is  wholly  modern  or  last-century  taste,  as  the  reader 
by  this  time  will  understand.  When  an  Homeric  tempest 
rises,  we  shall  all  see  the  whitening  billows,  or  the  fields  of 
low-bending  grain. 

261  Pallas  Athene  is  most  happy  in  this  her  first  appearance. 
More  than  Apollo  himself  she  stands,  even  in  Homer,  for 
enlightenment;  is  the  patroness  of  all  the  noblest  arts,  in 
which  glorious  war  has  a  high  place,  perhaps  the  highest. 
Since  no  one  else  sees  her,  we  are  tempted  to  think  the  poet 
has  here  consciously  personified  the  mere  wiser  second 
thought  of  his  hero.  But  such  explaining  away  of  personal 
divinities  is  always  dangerous.  (See,  however,  infra,  vss. 
555-559,  with  note.) 

266  Pope  adds  the  cloud.  Homer's  gods  appear  or  vanish  at 
their  own  will. 

282-284  Hera's  prophecy,  or  message,  is  not  so  explicit  as  Pope 
makes  it.  Homer  says  only  : 

"  Threefold  glorious  gifts  shall  yet  unto  you  be  proffered." 


118  NOTES 

Hera's  knowledge  of  the  future  is  limited.  She  complains 
later  because  Zeus  conceals  his  plans  from  her.  In  general, 
she  is  oftener  a  jealous,  querulous,  much-injured,  and  tricky 
wife,  than  a  dignified  goddess.  Pallas  acts  with  her  against 
Troy,  but,  more  nearly  than  other  gods,  from  a  steadfast 
sense  of  justice, 
298  Pope  comes  very  close  to  the  impetuous  Homeric  outburst : 

"  Wine-heavy  !    Eyes  of  a  dog  hast  thou,  and  heart  of  a  deer !  " 

But  presently  the  "  horrid  front  of  war  "  is  a  relapse  to 
faint  personification  and  rhetoric. 

309  This  sceptre  has  probably  just  been  put  into  Achilles'  hand 
by  the  herald,  as  a  sign  of  formal  right  to  speak.  To  dash 
it  angrily  on  the  ground  as  he  ceases  is  doubtless  a  gross — 
and  rather  boyish  —  affront  to  Agamemnon.  The  latter 
has  himself  a  peculiarly  sacred  ancestral  sceptre,  which  he 
takes  solemnly  in  hand,  as  soon  as  he  is  dressed,  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  clay,  in  Book  II.  That  sceptre,  however,  is 
silver-studded,  while  the  one  here  mentioned  is  "  starr'd  with 
golden  studs  "  (326).  So  perhaps  in  the  present  scene  Aga- 
memnon still  holds  his  own  sceptre  (like  our  Speaker's 
gavel),  while  another  passes  into  the  hand  of  him  who 
"takes  the  floor."  Our  information  on  any  such  point  of 
Homeric  etiquette  is  almost  always  fragmentary,  as  later 
usage  is  a  most  unsafe  guide,  —  even  if  we  happen  to  know 
it  any  better  than  we  do  epic  manners. 

311  The  parenthesis  is  Pope's.  Homer  is  wholly  intent,  as  he 
should  be,  on  making  us  see  the  sceptre.  The  whole  vs. 
316  is  another  insertion,  and  of  course  "  bleeding  Greece  "  is 
modern  taste.  Verse  320  is  still  farther  afield.  This  whole 
speech  is  an  extremely  good  example  of  Pope's  stylistic 
merits  and  faults.  Such  bitter  invective  was  only  too  fa- 
miliar in  the  fierce  politics  and  abusive  satire  of  his  own 
people.  He  undoubtedly  felt  that  he  had  greatly  improved 
on  his  copy.  The  student  may  very  profitably  compare 
these  lines  (297-324)  with  the  prose  version  of  Mr.  Leaf,  or 
with  Bryant's  blank  verse,  which  is  here  no  less  faithful  to 
the  Greek. 

347-350     It  is  not  merely  an  old  man's  fancy  that  the  heroes  of 


Nestor's  youthtime  overshadow  the  generation  which  carries 
on  the  Trojan  war.  Theseus,  in  particular,  the  mythical 
founder  of  the  Athenian  state,  like  his  friend  Heracles,  is  a 
dominant  figure  in  Greek  legend.  IMany  an  epic  glorified 
the  exploits  of  both,  but  chance,  or  the  survival  of  the  fittest, 
has  deprived  us  of  them.  Pirithous,  king  'of  the  Thessalian 
Lapithse,  was  aided  by  Theseus.  The  other  three  heroes 
mentioned  are  clansmen  of  Pirithous.  (Of  course  Poly- 
phemus is  no  kin  of  his  more  famous  namesake,  the  Cyclops, 
blinded  by  Odysseus  on  his  adventurous  homeward  voyage.) 
The  "  Centaurs  "  were  a  savage  rival  clan  in  the  Thessalian 
highlands,  destroyed  by  the  Lapithse;  but  the  notion  that 
they  were  half-horse,  half-human  in  figure  seems  to  be  de- 
veloped later  than  Homer.  The  belief  in  such  creatures 
doubtless  arose  in  some  Greek  race  when  they  first  saw  their 
enemies  on  horseback.  The  sculptures  of  the  old  temple  at 
Assos  have  the  awkward  earlier  form  of  the  centaur,  a 
man  complete,  with  a  sort  of  hobby-horse  springing  from 
his  back.  In  this  passage,  indeed,  Homer  mentions  no 
"  Centaurs  "  of  any  kind,  merely  speaking  of  a  fight  against 
"  beasts  with  mountain  lairs." 

355-357  The  reader  should  notice  such  occurrences  of  threefold 
rhyme.  The  third  verse  in  such  cases  is  often  an  Alexan- 
drine. The  variation  from  the  couplet  is  agreeable,  provided 
the  rhyme  itself  is  musical  and  seems  unforced,  while  both 
the  rhyming  words  and  the  passage,  as  a  whole,  can  bear  the 
especial  emphasis. 

363  "  Common  suffrage  "  was  misleading  in  Queen  Anne's  time, 
and  is  still  more  now.  See  Introduction,  p.  xi.  The  coun- 
cil of  chiefs  doubtless  allotted  the  prizes,  though  Homer 
does  not  here  mention  the  matter  at  all. 

370-371  Notice  the  rhyme,  and  see  note  on  vss.  81-82.  This 
may  have  been  quite  a  close  rhyme  in  Pope's  day,  as  it  still 
is  in  some  dialects  of  English. 

392-399  What  Homer  makes  Achilles  say  is  quite  different. 
Freely  paraphrased,  it  might  run :  "  Ye  —  my  peers,  not 
Agamemnon  alone  —  gave  me  Briseis :  ye  take  her  from 
me.  A  soldier  submits.  But  if  the  commander,  or  any 
other,  should  invade  my  tents  and  ships,  where  I  am  su- 


120  NOTES 

preme,  seizing  anything  indeed  my  own,  his  blood  shall 
flow  about  my  spear-head."  So  speaks  a  loyal,  knightly  cam- 
paigner, who  is  also  a  haughty,  independent  ruler.  Surely 
Richard  of  England  might  so  have  addressed  the  emperor 
in  Palestine.  Verse  395  is  an  unwelcome  gift  of  Pope. 
Certainly  Achilles  has  fought  gladly  for  Helen,  and  jus- 
tice, and  love  of  battle.  Now  Brise'is,  and  injustice,  and 
the  fierce  delight  of  bearding  his  overlord  in  full  council, 
sway  him  no  less  promptly.  But  no  question  as  to  any 
woman  is  here  raised  by  Homer. 

The  dialogue  that  ends  here  is  quite  as  dramatic  as  anything 
in  Attic  tragedy,  w7hose  founder,  JEschylus,  called  his  plays 
"  bits  from  the  banquet  of  Homer."  Even  the  descent  of 
Pallas  Athene,  to  guide  the  hero's  action,  is  a  favorite  de- 
vice of  the  dramatists.  But  indeed,  every  great  poet  of 
Europe  is  more  or  less  included  among  the  pupils  of  Homer. 
Two  brief  incidents  of  pacific  and  commonplace  nature  are 
fitly  inserted  (vss.  404-409,  410-417),  before  the  stress  of 
the  quarrel  is  renewed  by  the  demand  for  Briseis. 

402  is  the  first  mention  of  Achilles'  gentle  and  loyal  friend,  whose 
death  is  soon  to  cut  the  knot  just  tied  by  Agamemnon's 
and  Achilles'  pride.  Homer  names  him  here  merely  as  the 
"  Son  of  Menoetias."  This  seems  to  prove  that  the  outline, 
at  least,  of  the  famous  tale  was  perfectly  familiar  to  those 
for  whom  Homer  chanted  the  lay.  On  the  prominence  of 
manly  friendship  in  the  Greek  imagination,  see  Introduc- 
tion, pp.  xii-xiii.  The  excellent  commentary  of  Mr.  Gentner 
cites  Horatio,  Pythias,  Jonathan,  Pylades.  The  latter's 
friendship  is  the  closest  parallel,  because  nearest  to  Homeric 
tradition. 

410  The  cause  of  the  pestilence  has  been  discovered,  and  removed 
by  Chryseis'  departure.  Leaf  suggests  that  the  Greeks  sat 
mourning,  with  dust  on  their  heads,  unwashed,  during  the 
plague.  The  actual  lifting  of  the  ban  by  Chryses  and  his 
god  is  to  be  described  vss.  588-598.  - 

422  Agamemnon  had  declared  he  would  come  in  person  to  seize 
the  woman  (vs.  176).  Does  the  poet  quietly  intimate  thus 
his  monarch's  violence  of  speech,  and  caution  in  act? 

437     With    Achilles'    self-restraint    and    courtesy  here,   contrast 


M7T; 


BOOK   I  121 

Agamemnon's  rage  at  the  priest  Calchas,  an  equally  inno- 
cent and  yet  more  sacred -personage.  The  heralds  repre- 
sent the  u  Zeus-nourished  "  king  they  serve,  and  share  his 
inviolable  character. 

445     "  Pretty  poetry,  Mr.  Pope,"  —  perhaps. 

452-453     Since  1750  this  couplet  has  been  printed : 

"  Pass'd  silent,  as  the  herald  held  her  hand, 
And  oft  look'd  back,  slow-moving  o'er  the  strand.'* 

Compare  the  note  on  vss.  1-2,  and  the  preface.  The 
present  passage  was  a  favorite  with  Pope,  who  added  a 
note  intimating  his  satisfaction  with  his  own  imitation  of 
Homer's  "  numbers."  Whoever  substituted  the  four  gasp- 
ing initial  7*'s  in  452  had  lost,  or  never  had  possessed,  the 
ear  and  good  taste  of  Pope  in  his  prime.  Homer  merely 
remarks,  "With  them  reluctant  the  woman  went." 

458  The  real  Homer  has  just  "  bath'd  "  his  host,  adequately  and 
fitly,  in  the  sea.  He  is  incapable  of  such  bathos  as  this. 

462  There  is  no  allusion  in  this  book  to  any  choice  open  for 
Achilles  between  a  glorious  and  a  prolonged  life.  Perhaps 
his  own  spirit  cut  him  off  from  the  ignobler  alternative. 
In  Book  IX.,  generally  thought  a  later  addition  to  the  poem, 
that  form  of  the  legend  is  mentioned  ;  Achilles  himself 
there  says  his  mother  gave  him  such  a  choice.  (Pope's 
translation,  Book  IX.,  vss.  532-537.) 

468  if.     More   than   any  other   character   in    Homer,   perhaps   in 

ancient  literature,  Thetis  has  "  the  tender  grace  of  divine 
motherhood."  "The  strong-souled  warrior  is  again  but  a 
weeping  boy  at  that  mother's  knee."  (Art  and  Humanity 
in  Homer,  where  see  pp.  86-91.)  Homer's  heroes  have 
no  instinct  of  self-control.  They  weep,  laugh,  threaten, 
boast,  as  freely  as  little  children.  But  the  Romans,  when 
they  recast  Greek  dramas,  suppressed  such  outbursts  as 
unmanly.  The  Anglo-Saxon  also  represses  all  utterance  of 
violent  feeling,  at  least  in  real  life.  On  the  stage  we  per- 
mit more  of  Hellenic  naturalness. 

469  Ocean  is  an  error  here.     Oceanus  is  the  god  of  the  riverlike 

stream  —  or  the  stream  itself  —  that  lies  remote,  encircling 
all  lands  of  earth.  Thetis  is  a  Mediterranean,  an  ^Egean, 
divinity.  Her  father  is  unnamed,  being  merely  alluded 


122  NOTES 

to  in  Homer  as  the  "aged  sire,"  or  the  "ancient  of  the 
sea."  Later  poets  call  him  Nereus,  and  his  lovely  daughters, 
the  Nereids,  became  such  favorites  in  legend  that  the  name 
is  now  applied  in  the  Greek  Levant  to  nearly  all  the  kindly 
creatures  of  fairyland.  (Cf.  the  note  on  vs.  555.) 

478-479  Thebe  is  the  native  town  of  Hector's  wife,  Andromache. 
Ee'tion  was  her  father.  The  sack  is  described  more  fully, 
Book  VI.,  vss.  524  if.  How  Chryses'  daughter  happened 
to  be  there  we  cannot  know.  The  situation  of  all  these 
Homeric  towns  can  only  be  guessed. 

In  repetitions  like  this  passage  Homer  uses  exactly  the 
same  words,  even  to  the  third  time.  Pope  usually  feels 
compelled  to  vary  his  phrases.  See,  in  any  complete  edition, 
Book  II.,  vss.  11-18,  33-40,  83-90. 

515  The  whole  story  is  a  crude  and  savage  tale,  agreeing  ill  with 
Zeus'  own  claims  of  resistless  strength.  No  allusion  is 
made  to  it  again  by  the  poets.  Such  monsters  as  the 
hundred-handed  Briareus  are  not  elsewhere  brought  for- 
ward by  Homer.  The  myth  is  doubtless  one  received 
from  savage  forefathers.  Perhaps  Thetis  embroidered  it 
freely  as  a  nursery  tale  for  her  boy.  When  she  actually 
makes  her  appeal  to  Zeus  (infra,  vss.  G44  ff.)  she  is  too 
shrewd  to  bring  to  his  mind  any  such  mortifying  memories. 

518-519     i.e.  Hera,  Pallas,  Poseidon. 

523  Such  a  mention  of  twofold  names  occurs  repeatedly.  Perhaps 
the  divine  name  is  the  one  used  by  some  haughty  race  of 
conquerors,  the  other  by  their  subjects.  Compare  Wamba's 
wise  words,  Ivarihoe,  Chap.  I. 

525  Poseidon,  the  sea-god.  Homer  says  he  is  father  of  Briareus, 
who  was  doubtless  suggested  to  some  myth  maker  originally 
by  a  cuttlefish,  or  by  some  less  real  marine  monster.  Pope 
had  no  right  to  call  Briareus  a  Titan.  The  Titans. are 
Zeus1  uncles,  now  imprisoned  by  their  reigning  monarch, 
with  his  own  father  Kronos,  in  deepest  Tartarus. 
This  legend  is  one  of  many  which  indicate  that  the  Greeks, 
or  at  least  many  insular  and  sea-loving  clans,  regarded  the 
marine  powers  as  the  mightiest  of  all  divinities.  Even  in 
the  "  orthodox  "  Olympian  theology,  Poseidon,  the  "  earth- 
shaker,"  is  Zeus'  elder  brother,  claiming  full  freedom  in  his 


BOOK   I  123 

own  demesne,  and  rarely  coming  to  sit  as  an  inferior  in 
Zeus'  council  hall. 

551  The  real  Olympus  is  a  mountain  in  Thessaly,  more  than  nine 
thousand  feet  high,  so  always  snow-capt.  Like  the  Thes- 
salian  birth  of  Achilles,  this  local  abode  of  the  gods  is  among 
the  indications  that  epic  poetry,  perhaps  Hellenic  civiliza- 
tion generally,  first  developed  in  the  great  fertile  basin  of 
the  Peneus.  It  is  generally  believed,  however,  that  the 
real  Homer,  or  the  chief  Homer,  lived  in  Asia  Minor.  In 
many  passages  of  the  Iliad,  such  a  poet  may  well  have  had 
in  mind,  as  Olympus,  a  great  peak  of  the  Mysian  range, 
comparatively  near  the  Troad.  But  even  within  the  epic 
period  this  whole  conception  of  a  cloud-wrapt  and  snowy 
crest  changes  to  a  remoter  heavenly  abode,  quite  beyond 
the  reach  of  inclement  weather  or  any  earthly  discomfort. 
This  is  one  of  the  points  where  the  Odyssey  seems  more 
advanced  and  philosophic  than  the  Iliad.  See  especially 
the  passage  (Odyssey,VL,vss.  41-46)  imitated  by  the  Roman 
poet  Lucretius,  and  by  Tennyson  in  his  description  of 
Arthur's  retreat,  the  "Valley  of  Avilion": 

"  She,  thus  speaking,  departed,  the  keen-ey'd  goddess  Athene, 
Unto  Olympus,  where  it  is  told  that  the  gods'  habitation 
Ever  untroubled  abides,  nor  yet  by  the  tempest  is  shaken ; 
Nor  is  it  wet  by  rain,  nor  reached  by  the  snow,  but  about  it 
Clear  is  the  cloudless  air,  and  white  is  the  sunshine  upon  it." 

Pope,  as  in  almost  all  such  cases,  blends  freely  the  latest 
ancient  or  even  modern  beliefs  with  the  naive  conceptions 
of  the  Iliad  itself. 

555  The  main,  i.e.  Oceanus,  which  Homer  in  this  place  does  men- 
tion by  name.  (Compare  the  note  on  vs.  469.) 
The  belief  that  the  gods  are  all  gone  avisiting,  or  that  Zeus 
is  sound  asleep,  is  of  course  the  crudest  notion  of  a  savage 
about  divine  government.  Incidentally,  it  will  be  noticed 
that  Apollo  has  been  very  active  in  the  Troad  during  these 
very  days,  and  Pallas  Athene  descended  from  Olympus  and 
returned  within  a  half-hour !  (See,  however,  the  note  on 
vs.  261.) 

560-561     Homer  says : 

"  Then  will  I  go  to  the  palace  of  Zeus  with  its  brazen  threshold." 


124  NOTES 

"  Dome "  is  a  favorite  word  with  Pope,  in  the  sense  of 
"abode."  Homer  knew  nothing  of  domes,  as  \ve  use  the 
word. 

508-569  Pope  dismisses  thus  curtly  six  lines  of  graphic  description, 
the  more  interesting  because  the  coasting  vessels  on  the 
Asiatic  shore  are  doing  exactly  the  same  things  to-day. 
When  they  reach  the  harbor  mouth,  the  sails  are  detached 
and  stowed  away,  the  mast  unstepped  and  laid  down,  the 
vessel  is  rowed  in,  the  bow  anchored  offshore  with  ropes 
and  stones,  the  stern  beached  and  made  fast.  All  this 
Kiplingesque  detail  is  beneath  Pope's  notion  of  epic 
dignity.  Being  unable  to  dress  up  such  homely  truth  in 
court  finery,  he  pushed  it  aside. 

583     is  added  entire  for  the  rhyme. 

Here  Chryses'  daughter  slips  out  of  the  tragic  tale  in  which 
her  life  thread  was  for  the  moment  so  deeply  entangled. 
She  may  have  suffered  no  injury  save  a  brief  loss  of  free- 
dom. Even  her  own  name  is  unknown  to  us.  Her  after  fate 
is  as  hopelessly  hidden  as  is  the  reason  for  her  unlucky 
presence  in  Thebe  at  its  capture.  Doubtless  Greek 
marauders  wrere  careful  never  again  to  molest  the 
Archer's  favorites.  The  invaders  departed  a  few  weeks 
later.  No  more  can  be  told. 

"  The  unfinished  window  in  Aladdin's  tower 
Unfinished  must  remain." 

586  ff.  This  formal  offering  is  repeatedly  described  by  Homer  in 
nearly  the  same  words.  The  scattering  of  roasted  and 
salted  barleycorns  between  the  horns  of  the  victim  is  fol- 
lowed by  the  clipping  off  and  burning  of  the  forelock.  The 
victim  thus  devoted  to  the  gods  was  then  slain  with  the 
knife,  and  flayed.  The  thigh  bones,  doubly  wrapped  in  fat, 
with  slices  added  from  other  parts,  were  drenched  in  wine 
and  then  carefully  burned  up  in  the  fire,  as  the  gods'  por- 
tion, the  savor  being  carried  skyward  by  the  smoke.  What 
follows  is  a  purely  human  feast,  the  vitals  being  spitted  on 
forks  and  toasted,  the  whole  animal  eagerly  devoured. 

609  Instruments.  Pope  could  hardly  stoop  to  "  five-prong' J 
forks." 


BOOK  I  125 

631     Homer  makes  no  mention  of  the  keel,  much  less  of  a  "  crooked  " 

one! 
638-639     The  Greek  text  only  says  : 

' '  But  pining  in  spirit 
There  did  he  linger,  and  longed  for  war  and  the  shouting  of  battle.'' 

Criticise  Pope's  rhetoric. 

642  The  gods  return  from  their  visit  to  the  shores  of  Ocean  and 
the  Ethiopians.  We  must  suppose  nothing  occurs  within 
or  outside  Troy  meantime.  No  adequate  artistic  reason 
for  this  delay  is  offered.  The  Trojans  are  not  aware  of 
the  quarrel,  and  do  not  venture  forth. 

650-651  This  is  the  attitude  of  the  suppliant.  Perhaps  the  one 
hand  prevents  Zeus  from  rising  to  depart,  the  other  from 
speaking  an  irrevocable  word  until  Thetis  can  see  in  his 
face  that  his  heart  is  softened.  Later  legend  made  Zeus  an 
old  wooer  of  the  lovely  sea  nymph,  though  finally  frightened 
from  her  by  a  prophecy  that  she  would  bear  a  son  mightier 
than  his  father.  Homer  shows  no  knowledge  of  that  story. 

653  This  modest  reminder  of  former  passages  is  much  more  judi- 
cious than  Achilles'  suggestion  (sw/>ra,  vs.  512)  to  bring  up 
the  whole  mortifying  Briareus  episode.  Thetis  needed  no 
lessoning  in  her  present  employment. 

655  Of  course  this  does  not  mean  that  Zeus  owes  his  life  to 
Thetis.  He  is  incapable  of  death.  The  thought  is  restated 
more  clearly  in  the  next  couplet. 

671  The  Homeric  epithet  here  actually  applied  to  Zeus  is  "  cloud- 
gatherer."  Pope  feels  free  to  substitute  the  equally  common 
"  high-thundering,"  which  is  thus  expanded.  Such  sins  are 
venial. 

683-687  This  impressive  description  is  said  to  have  inspired  the 
sculptor,  Phidias,  when  he  modeled  the  gigantic  seated  Zeus 
for  the  national  temple  at  Olympia.  To  be  sure,  Zeus  has 
just  confessed  his  panic  fears  lest  Hera  may  catch  a  glimpse 
of  him.  There  are  much  broader  comic  touches  before  the 
book  closes.  But  we  must  accept  Homer's  gods  as  he  depicts 
them,  with  little  reticence  or  reverence,  for  the  most  part. 
Mr.  Leaf  regards  this  semi-humorous  treatment  of  the  gods 
as  a  proof  that  the  poet  lived  in  the  decadence  of  his  civili- 


126  NOTES 

zation,  when  faith  was  already  undermined.  Mr.  Lang,  on 
the  contrary,  proves,  by  abundant  illustration,  that  sincere 
savage  belief  is  full  of  most  grotesque  divine  myths.  This 
Olympian  family  is  an  imaginary  circle  of  manlike  beings 
released  from  the  most  wholesome  earthly  restraints.  They 
behave,  perhaps,  much  as  most  of  us  might  do  under  the 
like  conditions. 

.  714     Saturn  is  the  Roman  counterpart  of  Kronos,  the  dethroned 
father  of  the  reigning  Zeus,  or  Jupiter. 

719     consult.     Consultation  :  an  unusual  form  for  the  substantive. 

731  Cf.  Essay  on  Man,  "  Whatever  is,  is  right."  Homer  is  quite 
innocent  of  philosophic  theories,  and  this  bit  of  optimism  is 
doubly  incongruous  just  here,  while  the  gods  are  most  capri- 
cious and  quarrelsome. 

738     Vulcan.     Hephaestus,  the  smith  and  artist  of  the  gods. 

712-745  Again  original  poetry  by  Mr.  Pope.  He  can  never  resist 
a  chance  for  a  smart  antithesis. 

765  The  volcanic  character  of  Lemnos  doubtless  suggested  the 
mythical  connection  of  the  island  with  the  smithy  of  He- 
phaestus. Milton  imitates  this  passage,  Paradise  Lost,  I.  738. 

770  The  gods  are  the  more  amused  because  the  lame,  grimy 
smith  is  a  contrast  with  the  graceful  and  lovely  boy,  Gany- 
mede, their  usual  cupbearer. 

774  Homer  here  mentions  the  Muses  for  the  first  time  by  that 
name.  (See  the  note  on  vs.  2.)  They  are  invoked  again  in 
the  plural,  as  inspirers  of  song,  in  the  second  book,  at  the 
beginning  of  the  "  Catalogue  of  Ships."  But  there  are  rea- 
sons for  believing  the  "  Catalogue  "  to  be  a  borrowed  poem 
of  the  Hesiodic  school  inserted  late  in  the  Iliad. 

The  first  book  is  a  magnificent  introduction  to  the  general 
story.  In  it  we  make  the  acquaintance  of  the  chief  Greek  charac- 
ters, and  of  what  Pope's  age  called  the  "  machinery,"  i.e.  the  divine 
powers  directing  the  action  and  fate  of  men.  Of  the  books  now 
omitted,  the  Third  is  especially  interesting.  In  particular,  Paris' 
and  Helen's  first  appearance  is  a  masterpiece  of  sympathetic  char- 
acter-painting. But  in  varied  interest  and  breadth  of  view,  no 
book  in  Homer,  few  passages  of  equal  length  in  any  literature,  can 
rival  the  one  just  read. 


BOOK  VI  127 


BOOK   VI 

This  book  gives  us  a  glimpse  of  an  Homeric  battlefield  which, 
however,  can  be  properly  understood  only  by  those  who  read,  in 
Mr.  Pope's  version  or  another,  the  four  important  books  just 
omitted.  The  brief  outline  reprinted  here  from  the  edition  of 
1715  should  at  least  be  referred  to  once  more,  and  will  give  the 
essential  connections. 

Book  VI.  is  chiefly  occupied  with  domestic  scenes_wjthin  the 
doomed  city,  of  which,  indeed,  this  is  our  completest  view.  Doubt- 
less the  poet  is  painting  largely  the  real  customs  of  his  own  day. 
The  free  action  ojLthe.  women  is  especially  notable,  and  the  family 
of  Hector  could  be  transferred  with  little  change  to  a  romance  of 
our  own  century.  The  contrast  with  the  seclusion  and  silence  of 
women  in  Periclean  Athens  is  striking. 

Of  any  real  Troy  the  poet  had  evidently  no  knowledge  beyond 
vague  tradition,  which  probably  supplied  him  far  less  than  did 
his  own  artistic  and  creative  imagination.  Since  Dr.  Schliemamrs 
death,  his  assistant,  Dr.  Dorpfeld,  has  unearthed  at  Ilissarlik  the 
substantial,  well-built  walls  of  a  prehistoric  city.  This  is  gener- 
ally accepted  as  the  "  real "  Homeric  Troy.  It  answers  fairly  to 
what  seem  to  be  the  oldest  elements  in  the  legend,  as  the  tradi- 
tion that  Achilles  pursued  Hector  thrice  about  the  town. 

The  true  strategic  key  to  the  entire  Troad  is  the  acropolis  at 
Bounar-bashi,  five  miles  farther  inland,  at  the  head  of  the  plain, 
just  where  the  Scamander  breaks  in  from  the  region  of  Mt.  Ida, 
through  a  great  water  gap.  Professor  Jebb,  now  perhaps  almost 
alone,  defends,  with  the  stubbornness  of  an  Ajax,  this  site  as  the 
Homeric  stronghold.  Meagre  remains  of  ancient  fortification  are 
visible  there  also.  But  of  course  the  true  epic  city,  the  favorite 
visiting  place  of  the  gods  for  ages,  lies  close  on  the  frontiers  of 
Arthurian  Camelot,  in  the  white  island  of  dreamery. 

5  The  Scamander,  chief  river  of  the  Trojan  plain,  is  still  called 
the  Mendere.  The  Simois  is  a  smaller  stream  emptying 
into  the  Scamander  below  the  city. 

14     Homer  says,  "  Darkness  covered  his  eyes."     Which  is  better? 

17    Arisba.     An  Asiatic  town   near  the  Hellespont.     Notice   the 


128  NOTES 

warm  praise  of  a  Trojan  partisan.  Such  passages  are  re- 
garded as  indications  that  the  poet,  Greek  though  he  was, 
lived  in  Asia  Minor.  To  be  sure,  he  is  silent  as  to  any 
Hellenic  cities  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  .ZEgean,  but  that 
might  be  a  conscious  attempt  to  describe  earlier  historic 
conditions. 

21  Son  of  Tydeus,  Diomedes.  The  father  had  been  quite  as 
famous,  being  one  of  the  seven  chiefs  who  led  the  ill-fated 
assault  on  Thebes,  a  favorite  mythical  subject. 

28  There  are  several  such  children  of  mortal  fathers  by  fountain 
nymphs,  mentioned  in  Homer,  and  all  were  in  Asiatic  lands. 
This,  again,  and  the  many  signal  favors  shown  to  Troy  by 
the  gods  in  spite  of  Paris'  guilt,  may  be  regarded  as  indicat- 
ing the  poet's  local  sympathies.  Of  course  no  such  evidence 
can  really  lift  the  black  cloud  of  uncertainty  that  enshrouds 
the  entire  question  of  the  origin  of  the  epics. 

30  The  rhyme  carries  Pope  much  too  far.  "  Despoiled  Pidytes  " 
is  Homer's  milder  phrase. 

37  Teucer.  Ajax'  half-brother,  said  to  have  been  afterward  dis- 

owned by  Telamon  because  he  came  back  from  the  war 
without  Ajax. 

38  Nestor's  son.    Antilochus.    He  is  an  especial  friend  of  Achilles, 

to  whom  he  brings  the  news  of  Patroclus'  death  (Book 
XVIII.).  In  the  third  book  of  the  Odyssey,  Nestor,  many 
years  after,  is  still  mourning  for  Antilochus,  who  had 
perished  in  the  Troad,  with  Patroclus,  Achilles,  and  so 
many  other  gallant  youths. 

46       Menelaiis  is  king  of  Sparta. 

Cl-62  There  is  no  coin  as  yet  in  the  Homeric  age.  "  Persuasive  " 
is  Pope's  idea,  of  course.  Homer  says,  "  bronze,  and  gold, 
and  iron  wrought  with  toil."  The  Homeric  heroes  use 
bronze  weapons.  Steel  they  have  not  learned  to  fashion. 

78  Rigid  justice  is  not  an  Homeric  idea.  The  word  used  later 
for  justice  (dike)  means,  in  the  epics,  merely  "custom." 

85  Son  of  Mars.  Nestor  only  addresses  the  Greeks  as  "  Servants 
of  Ares." 

91  Helenus.  A  brother  of  Hector,  chief  priest  and  prophet  of  the 
Trojans,  but  also  a  gallant  warrior.  (See  Virgil,  JEneid,  III.) 

93      JEneas.     See  the  note  on  p.  111. 


BOOK   VI  129 

97  Aid's  is  Pope's  reading  in  1715,  and  seems  to  be  right.  Aid 
is  a.  collective  noun  meaning  allies,  and  is  constructed  like 
country's.  Other  possible  readings  are  aids'  and  aids. 

107  It  is  most  strange  that  the  commander  and  champion  should 
thus  be  sent  to  the  town,  just  when  the  Trojan  line  is 
already  breaking,  merely  to  carry  a  message  which  any 
page  could  take.  On  the  way  he  lingers  for  three  long 
interviews  with  his  mother,  brother,  and  wife.  So  perverse 
is  our  introduction  to  this  favorite  episode. 

115     We  must  imagine  a  rude  seated  figure  of  the  goddess. 

118     Spare  was  rhymed  with  war,  Book  I.,  vss.  81-82. 

135     Dardanus  was  a  mythical  early  king  of  Troy. 

147  The  digression  is  interesting,  but  only  heightens  our  bewilder- 
ment. Tydides  should  have  taken  advantage  of  Hector's 
absence  in  very  different  fashion.  This  is  all  noble  poetry, 
but  it  is  not  real  war. 

158  When  Pallas  inspires  and  guides  me.  Homer  does  not  men- 
tion her  here,  but  she  had  aided  Diomedes  mightily,  earlier 
in  the  day. 

1GO  Homer  says  :  "  I  would  not  fight  with  heavenly  gods."  The 
fact  that  Diomedes  has  fought  with,  and  wounded, 
Aphrodite,  and  Ares  himself,  within  a  half-hour,  makes 
Leaf  incline  to  reject  this  whole  passage  as  a  late  inter- 
polation. Mr.  Lang,  as  usual,  resists  with  vigor.  (Com- 
panionto  Iliad,  pp.  137-138,  Homer  and  the  Epic,  pp.  110-111.) 
Pope's  "  no  more  "  smooths  over  the  dimculty. 

163  Bacchus,  or  Dionysus,  was  a  late  interloper  among  the  Greek 

gods,  his  worship  coming  apparently  from  the  far  East. 
He  is  mentioned  by  Homer  only  four  times,  two  of  which 
passages  put  him,  as  here,  in  an  ignominious  light.  He  is 
not  yet,  in  Homer,  patron  of  the  vine  and  wine.  Herodotus, 
so  late  as  the  fifth  century,  B.C.,  plainly  intimates  his  dislike 
for  the  wild  Bacchic  worship.  Yet  to  it  we  owe  the  loftiest 
of  all  the  fine  arts,  the  drama.  There  are  several  legends 
of  kings,  who,  like  Lycurgus,  opposed  Dionysus'  worship, 
and  perished. 

164  There  are  many  mythical  Nyssse,  all  the  way  on  Dionysus' 

progress  from  India  to  Hellas. 
168     Thetis  is  the  loveliest  and  most  courageous  of  the  sea  nymphs. 


130  NOTES 

This  occurrence  was  doubtless  long  before  her  wedding 
with  Peleus. 

181  The  early  lyric  poet  Simonides  quotes  this  line,  saying  it  was 
"wisely  uttered  by  the  man  of  Chios."  It  is  worth  noting 
that  this  first  unmistakable  mention  of  the  Iliad  by  a 
known  author  makes  the  epic  poet  a  native  of  Asia. 

189  Argos.  Note  on  I.  45.  Ephyre  is  the  earlier  name  of  Corinth, 
which  is  of  course  on  the  "outmost  bound  "  of  the  Pelopon- 
nesus. 

210  A  whole  library  has  been  written  on  this  passage.  Here,  if 
anywhere,  Homer  shows  a  knowledge  of  letters  and  script. 
The  exact  meaning  of  the  Greek  is  rather:  "He  furnished 
him  dire  emblems,  graving  many  life-destroying  (ones)  in 
a  folded  tablet."  Some  such  token  of  introduction  was 
customary,  for  the  king  asks  to  see  it.  It  is  folded  or 
closed,  so  Bellerophon.  himself  would  doubtless  have  com- 
prehended it.  The  message  was,  to  put  the  bearer  to  death, 
and  it  was  understood.  But  the  idea  that  a  regular  alpha- 
bet or  syllabary  was  used  shatters,  perhaps,  on  the  word 
"  many."  That  points  rather  to  mere  rude  pictures  of  weap- 
ons or  violence,  the  cumulative  meaning  of  which  might 
possibly  be  guessed.  Perhaps  the  usual  missive  of  introduc- 
tion had  hieroglyphs  for  food,  shelter,  clasped  hands,  etc. 
Of  course,  even  if  Homer  himself  used  writing,  he  might 
intentionally  describe  a  ruder  early  age.  The  subject  is 
entirely  too  large  for  a  brief  note. 

216  Homer  says  the  king  asked  for  the  missive.  The  hospitable 
entertainment  offered  to  the  stranger  first  is  a  world-wide 
courtesj7,  at  least  among  the  less  civilized  nations. 

219  Homer  hardly  alludes  elsewhere  to  any  such  mixed  monstros- 
ity as  the  three-formed  chimera.  So  the  hundred-handed 
Briareus  is  quite  alone.  The  Greek  epic  is  thoroughly 
human.  Its  Sirens  are  beautiful  women,  not  mermaids. 
The  Centaurs  are  mere  beasts,  without  human  traits.  Later 
Greek  poets  utter  wilder  fancies,  and  Homer  no  doubt  had 
heard  many  such  myths,  though  his  artistic  good  sense  sup- 
pressed them.  Our  sincere  and  deepest  interest  can  be 
aroused  only  for  creatures  made  in  our  own  image,  without 
and  within, 


BOOK   VI  131 

229  The  notion  of  a  race  composed  wholly  of  warrior  women  is  a 
favorite  one.  A  similar  travelers'  tale  must  have  given  the 
great  Brazilian  river  its  name.  Priam  in  Book  III.  claims 
to  have  fought  the  Amazons  in  his  youth.  Herodotus  tells 
how  they  met  and  mated  in  secret  with  a  neighboring  clan, 
solely  to  continue  their  own  stock. 

238  The  end  of  this  little  romance  is  decidedly  conventional. 
Joseph  and  Potiphar,  the  Arabian  Nights,  and  almost  any 
national  collection  of  folk-lore  will  supply  parallels. 

244  Sarpedon  is  a  favorite  mortal  son  of  Zeus,  who  is  bitterly 
grieved  at  his  death  by  Patroclus'  hand,  in  Book  XVI. 
The  student  may  work  out  a  genealogical  tree  for  this 
family,  showing  the  kinship  of  Sarpedon,  Glaucus,  Bellero- 
phon,  etc.  The  Lycian  royal  family  is  treated  with  warm 
admiration  by  Homer,  —  or  by  the  poet  who  added  these 
Lycian.  episodes.  Head  especially  Pope's  Iliad,  XVI.  512-830. 

250  Sudden  and  painless  death  comes  to  women  from  Artemis',  to 
men  from  Apollo's  arrows.  In  this  passage  Pope  omits  the 
unfamiliar  names  of  Bellerophon's  children:  Isandros, 
Hippolochos,  Laodameia.  Bellerophon  in  madness  betakes 
himself  to  "the  wandering  field." 

277  Diomedes  is  modestly  confident  that  his  own  grandsire  and 
father  are  known  to  all  mankind.  (See  note  on  VI.  21.) 
.Kschylus'  tragedy,  The  Seven  against  Thebes,  is  one  of  his 
seven  plays  still  extant. 

279-281  join  was  probably  a  good  rhyme  for  thine,  else  special 
attention  would  hardly  be  thus  called  to  it.  Notice  the 
dignity  of  the  long  Alexandrine  (281)  and  the  effective 
pause  in  the  middle  of  it. 

290  Pope  was  probably  unwilling  to  follow  copy  here :  "  Then 
Zeus  bereft  Glaucus  of  his  wits."  This  ratio,  100 :  9,  was 
perhaps  an  accurate  estimate  of  relative  value  for  gold  and 
bronze  generally.  The  Lycian  art  doubtless  made  Glaucus' 
gear  doubly  valuable.  It  is  an  early  example  of  Greek 
shrewdness  at  a  bargain. 

296  The  episode,  beginning  147,  is  ended :  the  still  larger  episode 
of  Hector's  visit  to  Troy  is  resumed,  and  fills  the  rest  of  the 
book.  The  whole  field  of  battle  most  considerately  waits 
for  Hector's  return,  thanks  to  the  power  of  the  poet 


132  NOTES 

magician,  who  unrolls  the  whole  glorious  pageant  as  he 
chooses. 

322  and  329  Homer  does  not  mention  Bacchus  here,  nor  associate 
him  anywhere  with  wine.  The  wondrous  liquor  with 
which  Odysseus  lays  the  Cyclops  low  is  the  gift  of  a  priest 
of  Apollo.  (Compare  the  note  on  VI.  163.) 

330-331  Homer  inserts  no  such  temperance  address,  but  merely 
makes  Hector  refuse,  as  any  good  athlete  would,  to  drink 
wine  then,  for  fear  it  would  paralyze  his  vigor.  Horace 
says,  "  Homer  confesses  his  love  for  the  wine  by  singing  its 
praises."  Even  here  Hector  calls  it  by  a  beautiful  epithet, 
"  honey-hearted." 

362-363  An  incident  of  the  voyage  on  which  Paris  carried  Helen 
away  from  Greece.  Tyre  has  not  yet,  in  Homer's  world, 
eclipsed  Sidon  as  the  head  of  Phoenicia.  Paris'  visit 
there  is  audacious,  for  the  Phoenicians  are  still  the  chief 
traders,  and  also  the  most  dreaded  pirates,  on  all  Hellenic 
seas.  This  visit  may  be  a  reminiscence  of  the  real  connec- 
tion between  the  Homeric  civilization  on  both  sides  the 
.ZEgean,  and  the  remoter  Orient.  Homer's  finest  works  of 
art  are  oftenest  importations  from  Sidon  or  other  Eastern 
regions. 

387  This  episode,  within  the  greater  one,  is  thus  concluded.  The 
reader  will  notice  that  nearly  the  same  lines  have  been 
used  thrice,  by  Helenus,  by  Hector,  now  by  the  poet  him- 
self. Pope  omits  the  last  touch  : 

"  So  they  plead :  but  Athene  tosses  her  head  in  refusal.'' 

Perhaps  Pope  would  not  let  a  graven  image  toss  its  head,  — 
if  that  is  what  Homer  means.     Lovers  of  Virgil  will  re- 
member this  same  scene  as  depicted  on  Dido's  temple  walls. 
There,  also,  the  tossing  of  the  head  is  missing,  but  doubt- 
less merely  because  impossible  in  a  picture  :  u  The  goddess 
in  anger  has  turned  her  eyes  aside,  and  keeps  them  fixed 
upon  the  ground."     (^Eneid,  I.,  vss.  477-482.) 
408-409     This  is  wholly  Pope's,  of  course. 
427     Homer  merely  says,  "Victory  conies  to  men  in  turn." 
432  ff.     Helen  disarms  us  by  her  own  grief  and  bitter  self-condem- 
nation.    Homer  never  condemns  her,  nor  do  any  of  the 


BOOK   VI  133 

other  characters  reproach  her.  She  perhaps  followed  Paris 
only  perforce,  at  first,  or  under  compulsion  of  Aphrodite. 
She  has  been  really  fond  of  him,  however,  though  now  the 
longing  for  her  old  Grecian  home  and  husband  is  returning. 
She  says  nothing  about  Paris  at  all  resembling  441,  how- 
ever. She  complains  (we  fancy,  with  a  coquettish  glance 
at  Hector)  that  Paris  is  not  a  steadfast,  heroic  man,  mind- 
ful of  his  own  good  name.  The  last  words,  in  which  she 
seems  to  see  us,  of  future  ages,  gazing  down  the  long 
centuries  at  their  dishonor,  is  a  remarkable  tone  for  Homer, 
who  elsewhere  rarely  seems  conscious  of  an  audience. 
Any  student  especially  interested  in  Helen's  character  should 
by  all  means  read  Book  III.  as  well  as  XXIV.  She  also 
appears,  restored  to  honor,  happy,  radiantly  beautiful 
still,  again  queen  of  Sparta,  in  Book  IV.  of  the  Odyssey; 
but  there  is  no  hint,  hardly  the  possibility,  of  any  such 
future  happiness  for  her  anywhere  in  the  Iliad.  Perhaps 
the  older  epic  has  here  a  sterner  and  sounder  moral  code. 
Compare  Tennyson's  Guinevere. 

Euripides,  a  great  master  of  character  drawing,  introduced 
Helen  in  several  dramas,  and  wrote  in  particular  a 
Helena,  on  the  strange  legend  that  she  never  sinned  with 
Paris,  nor  went  to  Troy  at  all,  but  that  it  was  a  mere 
Eidolon  or  wraith  of  her  for  which  thousands  of  innocent 
folk  perished,  and  Ilios  fell  at  last.  In  all  romance  Helen 
is  the  eternal  type  of  beauty,,  riding  untroubled  over  the 
billows  of  strife.  But  in  such  passages  as  this  she  seems 
to  have  a  conscience,  and  even  a  heart.  Helena  in  Goethe's 
Faust  is  the  incarnated  spirit  of  classic  art. 
454  thy  knight  is  rather  misleading.  Homer  has  only  a  rather 

curt  this  (man). 

458  Recent  comments  speak  of  this  verse  as  a  true  prophecy,  and 
say  Hector  never  returned  to  the  city.  But  after  the  duel 
in  Book  VII.,  between  Hector  and  Ajax,  the  day  closes 
without  further  events,  and  in  VII.  313  (Pope,  376)  it  is 
expressly  said,  "  The  Trojans  escorted  Hector  to  the  town." 
One  day  is  then  spent  in  burying  the  dead,  another  in  the 
construction  of  the  Greek  wall  about  their  fleet.  Both 
these  nights,  also,  all  Trojans  slept  within  the  walls;  for 


134  NOTES 

Hector's  determination  to  camp  in  the  open  plain,  after  the 
next  day  of  successful  fighting,  is  a  rash  and  novel  plan, 
formed  because  the  Greeks  are  thought  likely  to  flee  by  sea 
during  the  night  if  not  ciosely  watched.  So  there  were  at 
least  three  more  daily  partings  with  his  family  for  Hector, 
after  this  untimely  visit !  The  fact  must  be  accepted  that 
this  most  noble  episode  is  very  ill  placed  in  our  present  text. 
Many  editors  would  cut  out  the  passage  at  the  end  of  VII., 
recounting  briefly  the  truce  for  burying  the  dead  and  the 
building  of  the  walls.  That  would  still  leave  the  line  just 
cited,  313  (376). 

But  the  other  problem  is  even  harder :  If  Paris  is  such  a  das- 
tard as  to  be  absent  from  the  field  at  this  crisis,  why  is  not 
Hector  there  ?  Headers  of  Book  III.  may  feel  the  younger 
brother  had  really  the  better  excuse  for  leaving  when  he 
did. 

463  His  soul's  far  dearer  part  is  unjustifiable  insertion:  471,  484- 
485,  etc.,  are  merely  distasteful  rhetoric. 

514  i.e.  "  For  surely  such  rash  valor  will  cut  you  off  from  long 
life. 

531-533     See  Introduction,  p.  xviii. 

539  The  name  should  be  Hypoplacia,  i.e.  "  Under  the  mountain 
Placos." 

543     See  note  on  VI.  250. 

545  Pope  had  a  rustic  illiterate  little  old  mother,  whom  he  loved 
devotedly.  Perhaps  she  inspired  this  simple,  strong,  Saxon 
line. 

555    i.e.  there  Menelaiis  urges  on  his  troops. 

573     Hector  knows  he  is  fighting  on  the  side  of  the  wrongdoer. 

580-581  This  is  the  most  ingenious  insertion  by  Pope,  perhaps, 
in  his  entire  version.  It  is  not  absolutely  original,  for  in 
Book  III.,  when  Aphrodite  goes  in  disguise  to  seek  Helen, 
she  finds  her  weaving  at  a  "  great  marvel  of  the  loom  "  : 

"  And  she  therein  had  embroidered 

Many  a  battle  of  valorous  Trojans  and  mailed  Achaians, 
Fought  for  the  sake  of  herself,  and  under  the  hands  of  the  war-god." 

It  is  perhaps  no  accidental  contrast  that  in  a  later  book  the 
gentle  Andromache,  surprised  at  the  loom  also,  was  weav- 
ing—  not  battles,  like  Helen  —  merely  flowers. 


BOOK  VI  135 

-  •  • 

588-589 

"  This  is  truth  the  poet  sings:    - 
That  a  sorrow's  crown  of  sorrows  is  remembering  happier  things." 

Tennyson  was  a  good  Homeric  scholar,  but  in  these  lines 
of  Locksley  Hall  he  is  probably  thinking  rather  of  Dante. 

594-609  There  is  hardly  another  passage  in  ancient  literature 
where  a  child  is  treated  by  a  poet  as  a  modern  parent 
would  desire.  Pope  is  spirited,  but  by  no  means  faithful. 
The  "  reeking  spoils  "  of  vs.  611  is  exactly  Homeric,  and 
must  be  accepted  along  with  the  gentler  touches.  But  vs. 
609  quite  reverses  the  modest  prayer : 

"  May  it  be  said  some  day,  '  He  is  better  by  far  than  his  father.'  " 
Again,  the  last  half  of  vs.  607  really  makes  us  feel  that  a 
stout  British  Tory  is  asserting  his  loyalty. 

627  This  is  in  quite  a  different  tone  from  vs.  570.  Hector  here 
cheers  his  wife  by  assuring  her  no  man  can  slay  him  until 
the  day  of  destiny  comes.  This  fatalistic  feeling  is  a  com- 
mon conviction  of  the  soldier  in  any  age.  Such  a  belief  is 
said  to  aid  largely  in  making  the  Turks  and  other  Ma- 
hometans so  fearless  in  battle. 

665  Paris  make?  a  very  polita  speech  of  two  lines,  which  Pope 
suppresses. 

679  The  feeble  personification  of  Greece  —  which  can  hardly  be 
distinguisht  from  the  "proud  foe"  of  the  previous  line  — 
makes  an  unworthy  close  for  this  splendid  episode.  Never- 
theless, Pope  has  shown,  on  the  whole,  such  a  mastery  of 
clear,  vigorous  English  as  few  men  have  ever  attained. 
His  rhyme,  also,  though  often  a  temptation  to  excessive 
freedom,  is  never  in  itself  grotesque  or  ignoble.  He  keeps 
well  within  those  canons  of  taste  which  he  and  his  age 
formulated  and  believed  in. 

We  said  in  the  Introduction  it  was  not  easy  to  explain  the 
prompt  and  lasting  favor  with  which  this  translation  was 
received.  A  careful  comparison  with  Chapman's  version, 
then  its  only  serious  rival,  will  go  far  to  allay  our  surprise. 
The  student  may  profitably  pause  and  study  for  a  mo- 
ment the  respective  renderings  of  this  closing  passage, 
which  is  an  ordinary  average  test.  Beginning  after  Paris' 
apology,  Chapman  continues  : 


136  NOTES 

"  He  answered :  '  Houour'd  man,  — 
Be  confident,  for  not  myself  nor  any  others  can 
Reprove  in  thee  the  work  of  fight,  at  least,  not  any  such 
As  is  an  equal  judge  of  things ;  for  thou  hast  strength  as  much 
As  serves  to  execute  a  mind  very  important,  but 
Thy  strength  too  readily  flies  off,  enough  will  is  not  put 
To  thy  ability.     My  heart  is  in  my  mind's  strife  sad, 
When  Troy  (out  of  her  much  distress,  she  and  her  friends  have 

had 

By  thy  procurement)  doth  deprave  thy  noblesse  in  mine  ears. 
But  come,  hereafter  we  shall  calm  these  hard  conceits  of  theirs, 
When,  from  their  ports  the  foe  expuls'd,  high  Jove  to  them  hath 

giv'n 
Wish'd  peace,  and  us  free  sacrifice  to  all  the  Pow'rs  of  heav'n.'" 

The  first  four  pairs  of  rhymes  are  trivial,  almost  comic,  the 
other  two  are  imperfect  in  sound.  In  all  Pope's  transla- 
tions and  original  poems  together  no  such  interwoven  skein 
of  "hard  conceits,"  no  such  series  of  rhymes  thumping 
upon  ludicrously  unimportant  words,  can  be  found  to  set 
beside  this. 

Pope,  Bryant,  Lang,  Worsley,  are  alike  easy  and  graceful,  in 
contrast  with  the  Elizabethan  rhymes,  in  such  a  passage. 
Compare  Introduction,  pp.  •xvii-xix,  and  also  the  first  note 
on  Book  XXIV. 

BOOK   XXII 

Again  the  student  should  read  the  arguments  for  the 
omitted  books  (VII.-XXL),  and  make  for  himself  a  still 
briefer  outline  of  those  incidents  which  are  essential  to  the 
main  story.  In  this  book,  too,  we  must  remember  that 
the  fierce,  imperious  spirit  of  Achilles,  after  chafing  so  long 
in  self-compelled  inaction,  has  been  fatally  embittered  by 
the  loss  of  his  better  and  gentler  self,  Patroclus.  Over  the 
survivor  also  hangs  the  black  shadow  of  close-hovering 
death,  foretold  him  long  ago  by  his  mother,  whose  prophecy 
has  just  been  miraculously  repeated  by  one  of  Achilles' 
divine  horses,  as  they  reluctantly  drew  him  forth  to  his 
greatest  but  fatal  triumph,  the  slaying  of  Hector.  This 
book  ought  to  be  read,  for  the  first  time,  at  one  sitting,  with- 
out the  slightest  interruption,  with  no  reference  to  notes. 


BOOK   XXII  137 

The  sjvif t  action,  the  repeated  appeal  to  the  strongest  ^ele- 
mentaTemotions,  hate  and  love,  the  powerful  and  fit  similes 
from  familiar  natural*  objects  at  each  great  crisis,  show 
Homer  at  his  best ;  and  therB  is  little  indeed  in  all  literature 
that  is  better.  Athene's  interference  offends  sadly  against 
our  ideas  of  fair  play,  but  she  is  perhaps  merely  the  agent 

I  of  Zeus,  or  of  still  mightier  Fate,  reminding  us  that  Hector 
is  hopelessly  handicapped  by  being  on  the  side  of  wrong. 

Any  careful  reader  will  by  this  time  recognize  many  words 
and  lines  as  evident  additions  by  Mr.  Pope's  hand.  They 
may  be  classified  in  part  as  vague  personifications,  extrava- 
gant metaphors,  and  forced  antitheses.  Many  of  the 
examples  occurring  in  this  book  may  be  grouped  here 
together.  Others  wTill  be  easily  found,  especially  if  a  more 
literal  version  be  compared  with  Pope's.  Thus  such  single 
words  as  drown  (vs.  4),  chain' 'd  (vs.  9),  torrents  (vs.  126), 
smoke  (vs.  194),  hand  (vs.  454),  tender  slww'r  (vs.  547),  intro- 
duce or  suggest  some  mi-Homeric  comparison.  The  whole 
line  85  is  an  extended  metaphor  added  by  the  translator. 
In  146,  151-152,  etc.,  Homer  did  not  personify  the  "  suffer- 
ing country,"  saying  merely  "  Some  other  baser  man"  might 
malign  Hector.  More  serious  is  the  insertion  of  Fate  in 
228,  Furies  447,  Fate  449,  Fates  453,  etc.,  until  the  stage 
soems  thronged  with  such  vague  half-real  shapes.  The 
Fates  are  actually  mentioned  only  once,  if  at  all,  in  the 
plural  by.  Homer  (XXIV.  63)  as  persons:  the  whole 
notion  of  the  three  spinners  is  apparently  a  later  myth. 
The  worst  single  line  is  perhaps  382,  where  Homer  only 
said,  "Now  an  ignoble  death  is  near,  not  remote." 

That  Pope  identifies  Apollo  explicitly  with  the  sun  (vss.  23, 
284,  etc.)  has  been  criticised  before.  He  often  improves 
on  the  ethics  of  his  original.  Thus  (vss.  69,  72)  the  mother 
of  Polydorus  and  Lycaon,  Laothoe,  is  named  by  Homer,  and 
the  reminder  of  Priam's  polygamy  is  the  more  forcible  be- 
cause Hecuba  is  even  now  leaning  over  the  battlements  at 
his  side.  Much  picturesque  paganism  is  piously  concealed 
under  such  words  as  "  Heaven."  Thus  172  for  "  that  de- 
termine Heav'n  "  the  Greek  says  "  to  whom  the  Olympian 
giveth  the  glory,"  and  (vs.  242)  — 


138  NOTES 

"  Downward  darting  Athene  passed  from  the  crests  of  Olympus." 

This  conception  of  the  mountain  abode  of  the  gods  seems 
to  have  been  quite  too  crude  for  Pope's  taste.  See  espe- 
cially 218,  where  we  somehow  get  a  picture  of  heaven  like 
the  upper  tier  of  boxes  in  a  fashionable  theatre.  Homer 
only  said  "  all  the  gods  beheld  them."  But  this  very  crude- 
ness  of  Homeric  thought  as  to  the  divine  abode  may  have 
an  important  weight  in  discussing  the  relative  age  of  the 
epics,  or  of  different  passages  in  the  Iliad.  (See  note  on 
Book  I.,  vs.  551.  ) 

The  eighteenth-century  poet  often  adds  detail  of  a  more 
artificial  culture  than  Homer.  Thus  the  "well  breath 'd 
beagle "  (244)  is  just  a  dog,  and  \ve  are  not  even  told 
if  he  tracked  the  fawn  by  sight  or  scent,  so  247  is  all  gra- 
tuitous. 

Pope  is  especially  bold  in  his  allusions  to  the  dead.  Thus 
347-348  is  really  fine,  but  impossible,  because  the  dead, 
once  duly  cremated,  can  never  revisit  the  living,  even  in 
dreams.  (Pope's  Homer,  XXIII.  93-96.)  Verses  457-458 
are  also  too  explicit.  We  are  told  by  Homer  only  that  — 

"  Flitting  forth  from  the  body  his  soul  had  already  departed, 
Grieving  over  his  doom,  for  the  loss  of  his  manhood  and  youth- 
time.'' 

Again  at  70-71  Homer  only  says,  "But  if  already  they  are 
dead  and  in  Hades'  abode."  The  notion  that  the  body 
must  be  duly  disposed  of  before  the  soul  can  cross  the  Styx 
seems  here  to  be  in  Pope's  mind.  Patroclus1  ghost  says 
nearly  this  to  Achilles  in  a  dream.  (Pope's  Iliad,  XXIII. 
87-92.)  Everywhere  else  in  the  Iliad  the  souls  of  the  slain 
flit  instantly  to  Hades1  realm.  It  is  curious  that  Pope  fin- 
ally closes  his  Iliad  with  a  verse  of  his  own,  giving  us 
unique  and  incredible  information  as  to  the  condition  of 
the  dead.  See  note  on  XXIV.  1016. 

6  The  original  is  only  "  leaning  shields  on  shoulders."  Pope  is 
thinking  of  the  Roman  method  of  assault,  with  the  shields 
fitted  together  so  as  to  form  a  complete  roof,  called  the 
"  tortoise."  Homer  knows  no  such  custom,  and  his  common 
soldiers  hardly  count  at  all  in  real  contests. 


BOOK   XXII  139 

39  Our  names  for  constellations  are  largely  ancient.  The  Greeks 
fancied  they  saw  in  them  outlines  of  natural  objects,  or 
human  figures.  Orion  is  the  name  of  a  famous  hunter.  A 
group  of  stars  rising  just  ahead  of  it  is  called  Canis  Major, 
and  is  supposed  to  be  Orion's  hound.  The  brightest  star 
of  the  group  is  Sirius.  Our  "  dog  days,"  and  similar  words 
in  other  languages,  recall  the  old  belief  that  the  rising  of 
Canis  Major  brought  the  sultry  midsummer  weather. 
The  comparison  with  the  death  bringing  Achilles  is  magnifi- 
cently fitting.  "  Xot  half  so  dreadful "  is  Pope's  improve- 
ment on  "  Even  as " ;  but  artistically  he  is  right.  The 
comparison  should  always  be  subordinate  to  the  thing  it 
illustrates,  and  must  send  us  back  with  heightened  interest 
to  the  main  highroad  of  the  story.  And  the  angry  hero  is 
far  more  dreadful  than  any  star. 

90     Homer  says  earth,  PopeyZoor.     The  change,  if  slight,  is  char- 
acteristic. 

105     Wholly  original  with  Mr.  Pope. 

137  The  heroes  almost  invariably  speak,  rather  than  think,  even 
when  alone.  This  is  part  of  the  intensely  dramatic  quality 
of  Homer,  and  of  nearly  all  Greek  utterance. 

140  This  was  the  evening  before,  after  Hector  had  slain  Patroclus 
and  secured  Achilles'  arms.  In  the  intervening  night 
Thetis  had  obtained  from  Hephaestus  far  more  splendid 
armor  for  her  son. 

158  The  hearer  is  reminded  betimes  that  Hector's  fate  is  deserved. 
Especially,  if  he  has  been  able,  by  force  or  counsel,  to 
secure  the  restoration  of  Helen,  it  should  have  been  done 
long  years  ago.  In  Book  VII.,  after  Hector's  duel  with 
Ajax,  there  is  a  council  of  Trojans,  where  Anterior  makes 
this  proposal,  Paris  objects,  and  Priam,  weakly  siding  with 
his  guilty  son,  finally  sends  a  herald  to  the  Greeks,  offering- 
back  only  the  treasure  stolen  with  Helen.  The  very  herald 
condemns  Paris  bitterly.  (Pope,  VII.  462-469.)  Hector's 
voice  is  not  heard  at  all. 

Here  he  speaks  and  thinks  only  as  a  warrior.  His  parents' 
appeals,  his  wife's  fate,  seem  not  to  be  in  his  mind  at  all. 
So  when  he  passed  out  of  the  gate  with  Paris  at  the  close 
of  Book  VI.,  the  delight  of  battle  seized  him,  while  all  his 


140  NOTES 

forebodings  and  reluctance  were  forgotten.  This  is  all 
good  psychology. 

180  The  flight  of  Hector  perplexes  the  modern  reader.  Perhaps 
some  recorded  prophecy,  or  other  famous  tradition,  bound 
the  poet  to  this  incident,  despite  the  gallantry  elsewhere 
accorded  by  him  to  the  Trojan  leader.  Panic  may,  of 
course,  seize  on  brave  men.  Some  think  the  passage  a  late 
insertion  by  an  unworthy  hand.  In  his  beautiful  poem, 
Helen  of  Troy,  Andrew  Lang  reproves  Homer  for  such  a 
slander  on  a  gallant  hero. 

195  There  are  many  springs,  warm  and  cold,  in  the  Trojan  plain, 
but  the  sources  of  the  Scamander  are  quite  twenty  miles 
away,  high  on  Mt.  Ida.  There  a  current  from  a  warm 
spring  does  run  a  short  way  to  join  a  larger  stream  of  cold 
water.  This  last  has  just  before  fallen  over  a  considerable 
precipice,  is  fed  by  marshy  land  above,  and  doubtless, 
finally,  by  the  melting  snows  on  topmost  Gargaros.  The 
present  editor  visited  the  spot  just  after  heavy  rains  had 
fallen  for  three  days  (October,  1881),  and  the  "  hot  spring" 
was  then  barely  tepid.  It  is  very  doubtful  if  the  ancients 
knew  these  springs.  They  had  no  delight  in  mountain 
climbing. 

257  Elsewhere  in  the  Iliad  dreams,  even  when  deceitful,  are  actu- 
ally sent  to  men  by  some  divine  agency.  Here  Homer 
speaks,  quite  as  a  modern  man  might,  of  a  mere  nightmare. 
This  is  said  to  be  the  only  case  of  a  dream  used  in  a  simile. 

263     0  Muse  is  not  in  the  Greek. 

276  The  figurative  meaning  is  evident.  Of  course  Pope  uses  the 
word  hell,  here  and  elsewhere,  for  the  whole  world  of 
the  dead. 

285-286  Pope  makes  a  very  serious  error  here.  No  such  scene 
on  Olympus  could  be  made  visible  to  a  mortal's  eyes. 
Athene  merely  asserts,  that  there  could  now  be  no  escape 
for  Hector,  even  if  Apollo  should  intercede  for  him,  ever 
so  frantically,  in  Zeus'  presence.  The  whole  activity  of 
Athene  in  this  crisis  seems  horribly  unfair,  and  even  de- 
prives Achilles  of  credit  for  that  supreme  triumph  which 
he  is  supposed  to  be  fully  able  to  win  without  magic 
armor  or  foul  play.  We  are  tempted  here  again,  as  in 


BOOK  XXII  141 

Book  I.,  to  allegorize  her  away,  as  a  mere  incarnation  of 
vengeful  divine  justice.  Patroclus,  however,  is  killed  by 
Hector  under  very  similar  circumstances. 

340-342  Homer  makes  Achilles  say  only :  "  There  can  be  no 
courtesies  or  oaths  between  me  and  thee,  ere  one  of  us  falls, 
sating  with  his  blood  the  fierce  war-god  Ares."  There 
really  is,  however,  a  great  and  bitter  change,  worked  by 
Patroclus'  loss,  in  the  nature  of  Achilles.  He  himself  ex- 
presses it  fully  to  a  lesser  victim  of  his  spear,  in  Book"  XXI. 
(Pope's  version,  vss.  109-125.)  He  fully  realizes,  and  wel- 
comes, his  own  approaching  death. 

405-406  It  is,  perhaps,  too  ingenious  to  find  here  an  example  of 
"  tragic  irony."  Homer  does  not  call  attention  to  the  fact 
that  Hector  is  wearing  the  armor  of  Achilles  himself,  who 
naturally  knows  its  weakest  point.  It  is  quite  in  the  spirit 
of  Attic  tragedy,  however,  to  emphasize  such  coincidences. 
So,  after  the  duel  in  Book  VII.,  Ajax  gives  Hector  a  belt, 
and  receives  in  turn  a  sword.  It  is  the  later  tale,  not 
Homer's,  which  adds :  by  that  belt  Hector's  corpse  was 
dragged  behind  Achilles'  chariot,  with  that  sword  Ajax 
slew  himself  in  frenzy  at  last. 

430  and  432  are  wholly  Pope's. 

451-452  Notice  the  clear,  prophetic  vision  of  the  dying.  Some 
such  legend  as  this,  about  Achilles'  death,  must  have  been 
familiar  to  Homer's  audience.  Some  stories  make  Achilles 
meet  his  death  when  going  to  woo,  or  wed,  Priam's  daugh- 
ter, Polyxena.  Paris  was  to  be  forced  to  surrender  Helen 
as  part  of  the  general  peaceful  arrangement,  hence  his 
treacherous  shot.  The  various  early  "  sequels  "  composed 
for  the  Iliad  have  all  perished.  (See  Lawton's  Successors 
•  of  Homer.)  From  one  of  them  this  speech  of  Hector  may 
have  been  inserted,  later,  in  the  Iliad. 

467  some.  Homer  says  "every  one."  This  may  have  been  due 
to  the  fierce  blood-feud  of  the  many  whose  kin  Hector  had 
slain. 

491-494  The  dactylic  marching  movement  seems  essential  to  the 
meaning  here  : 

"  Now  let  us  sing  our  paean  of  victory,  sons  of  Achaians, 
While  to  the  hollow  ships  we  march,  and  carry  the  body. 


142  NOTES 

Great  is  the  glory  we  win  :  we  have  slain  the  illustrious  Hector: 
Like  to  a  god  throughout  their  city  the  Trojans  adored  him." 

The  last  two  lines  seem  to  be  part  of  the  psean  itself,  to 
the  notes  of  which  the  triumphant  Greeks  march  shore- 
ward. 

510  Cf.  218,  465.  Men  and  gods  look  on  in  anxious  suspense  at 
the  decisive  scene  in  the  long  tragedy.  Only  Andromache 
is  spared  the  sight. 

525     See  note  on  Book  I.,  vs.  174. 

567  The  "pensive  melancholy"  is  transferred  by  Mr.  Pope  from 
Book  VI.,  vss.  643-647. 

604-605  The  alliteration  and  assonance  call  attention  painfully 
to  the  least  musical  of  English  sounds.  The  experiment 
of  543  should  not  have  been  repeated.  Pope  rarely  per- 
mits such  a  lapse  as  this.  Compare  note  on  Book  L, 
vss.  452-453. 

610     "  The  astrology  is  Pope's."     (Gentner.) 

622-653  Powerful  and  pathetic  as  it  is,  this  passage  had  in 
ancient  and  modern  times  been  criticised  as  inept.  Asty- 
anax  is  still  a  prince,  grandson  of  Priam  and  heir  of 
Hector.  Even  when  Troy  falls,  Hector's  son  will  but  share 
the  common  lot  of  enslavement  with  his  whole  race.  The 
prevailing  tradition  was,  however,  that  in  the  sack  of  the 
city  some  Grecian  chieftain  flung  the  boy  from  the  walls. 
But  this  is  not  a  moment  when  Andromache  can  be  ex- 
pected to  utter  wise  or  moderate  words. 


BOOK  XXIV 

This  book  is  generally  believed  to  be  by  a  later  •  hand. 
Certain  differences,  even  in  the  language,  make  Mr.  Lang 
himself  doubtful.  There  can  be  no  question  that  this 
closing  scene  raises  the  whole  poem  to  a  higher  ethical  and 
artistic  plane,  by  revealing  the  character  of  Achilles  under 
the  softening  influences,  of  bereavement,  pity,  and  even 
sympathy.  The  song  of  triumph,  quoted  above  in  the  note 
on  XXII.  l!)l-l!M,  would  be  a  possible  final  note  for  an 
epic  of  action,  and  the  subject,  announced  at  the  beginning 


BOOK   XXIV  143 

of  the  Iliad,  had  even  then  been  fully  worked  out.  At  just 
such  a  point  the  JEneid  stops. 

These  last  two  books  are  two  very  different  attempts, 
somewhat  as  in  the  fifth  act  of  the  Merchant  of  Venice,  to 
lighten  the  stress  of  the  previous  scenes,  and  to  leave  a 
milder  final  impression.  Whether  it  was  the  chief  poet,  or 
a  worthy  pupil,  who  first  thought  of  bringing  together  these 

1  stately  figures,  Achilles  and  Priam,  in  their  kindred  grief, 
can  hardly  be  finally  demonstrated.  One  of  the  later 
Homeric  supplements  makes  Achilles  conceive,  and  Thetis 
and  Aphrodite  gratify,  a  wild  desire  to  see  Helen,  whom 
he  had  apparently  never  beheld,  much  less  wooed.  A 
still  later  legend  arranges  a  final  wedding  between  these 
two  incarnations  of  youthful  beauty,  Achilles  and  Helen,  in 
the  "White  Island"  of  far  Orient  seas.  Somewhat  such 
an  afterthought  this  noble  episode  may  have  been.  On  the 
whole,  the  present  editor  inclines  to  believe  that  the  larger 
lay  of  Achilles'  wrath,  and  this  tale  of  his  hospitable  cour- 
tesy to  Priam,  are  by  quite  diverse  hands,  and  probably 
appealed  to  different  generations  of  men.  This  book  is  in 
spirit  nearer  to  the  Odyssey  than  to  the  Acliilleid  proper. 

The  first  twenty  lines  are  a  fine  example  of  Pope's  best  man- 
ner. The  natural  antithesis  at  vs.  5,  "  ]N"ot  so  Achilles,"  adds 
much  force  and  pathos.  Friendship  is  a  subject  on  which 
Pope  thought  and  wrote  excellently.  His  choice  for  rhyme 
never  falls  on  a  trivial  word.  Tastes,  fed,  vent,  do  call  up 
needless  metaphors,  but  doubtless  most  readers  pass  them 
unnoticed.  "  More  unobserv'd  to  weep  "  is  British  stoicism, 
not  the  epic  delight  in  full  self -utterance.  On  the  whole, 
no  rhymed  version  can  greatly  surpass  this  performance,  for 
it  is  nearly  perfect.  The  final  question  is,  does  the  rhymed 
couplet,  in  the  mass,  please  or  stun  the  listening  ear? 
To  that,  Pope's  age  gave  one  answer,  Tennyson's  another. 

The  original  has  twelve  lines,  and  can  perhaps  be  packed  into 
so  many  ten-syllable  English  verses  : 

"  The  games  were  done.    The  folk  to  their  swift  ships 
Dispersing  went.    Of  supper  and  sweet  sleep 
They  thought,  to  be  enjoyed  :  Achilles  wept, 
Remembering  his  dear  comrade.     Nor  did  sleep, 


144  NOTES 

The  all-conquering,  hold  him  :  to  and  fro  he  tost, 
Missing  Patroclus'  bloom  and  glorious  might. 
What  toils  he  had  wrought  with  him,  and  woes  endur'd, 
Cleaving  the  wars  of  men,  and  grievous  waves, 
These  he  recalled,  and  dropt  a  swelling  tear. 
Sometimes  upon  his  side,  then  on  his  back 
He  lay,  or  face  ;  again  he  rose  erect, 
And  madly  whirl'd  along  the  beach," 

Bryant,  in  fifteen  lines,  softens  slightly  to  pensive  melancholy 
the  firm  Greek  strokes,  telling  how  — 

"  The  battles  fought  with  heroes,  the  wild  seas 
O'erpassed,  came  thronging  on  his  memory." 

Chapman  says  Achilles  — 

"  Did  renew 

His  friend's  dear  memory,  his  grace  in  managing  his  strength, 
And  his  strength's  greatness,  how  life  rack'd  into  their  utmost 

length 

Griefs,  battles,  and  the  wraths  of  seas,  in  their  joint  sufferance. 
Each  thought  of  which  turn'd  to  a  tear.     Sometimes  he  would 

advance, 
In  tumbling  on  the  shore,  his  side,"  etc. 

Those  who  love  such  quaint  conceits  will  look  not  in  vain 
on  any  page  of  Chapman.  He  is  himself  a  real  poet,  of 
which  we  are  reminded  far  oftener  than  in  Pope's  com- 
pany, as  witness  the  half-line  italicized  by  us.  The  man- 
ner, even  there,  however,  is  quite  un-Horneric. 

33  The  "  golden  shield,"  or  segis  of  Zeus,  is  elsewhere  intrusted 
only  to  Athene.  Is  it  really  in  origin  the  sun's  disk  ?  Zeus, 
Pallas,  Apollo,  are  often  named  together  in  a  form  of  oath, 
which  even  in  Homer  sounds  archaic.  They  are  more  clearly 
natural  forces  in  origin  than  are  most  of  the  Olympian 
divinities  :  the  cloud-wrapt  sky-father,  his  blue-eyed  helpful 
daughter,  who  even  wields  his  bolts,  his  radiant  life-giving- 
son.  See,  however,  the  note  on  Book  I.,  vs.  52. 

38-41  A  crude  version  of  an  awkward  original.  The  poet  tells 
how  to  these  gods  holy  Ilios  was  hateful : 

"  Priam  as  well,  and  his  people,  because  of  the  madness  of  Paris ;  " 

the  last  phrase  occurs  repeatedly  elsewhere,  always  as  an 
allusion  to  Paris'  escapade  with  Helen.  But  this  time  two 
verses  are  added : 


BOOK   XXIV  145 

"Who  did  the  goddesses  anger  when  they  had  entered  his  courtyard ; 
Her  he  approved  who  indulged  his  fatal  wantonness  for  him." 

A  famous  poem,  the  Cyprian  Epic,  was  composed,  after 
the  Iliad,  expressly  to  give  adequate  explanation  how  the 
great  strife  around  Troy  came  to  begin.  The  quarrel  of 
the  three  goddesses  over  the  apple  inscribed  "  for  the  fair- 
est," with  the  bribery  of  the  umpire  Paris  by  Aphrodite 
through  the  promise  of  a  most  lovely  wife,  must  have  been 
prominent  in  that  tale,  whether  then  invented  or  part  of  an 
older  tradition.  The  present  passage  seems  an  inept  inter- 
polation alluding  to  that  story.  It  will  be  noticed  that  it 
leaves  Poseidon's  anger  wholly  unaccounted  for.  The  author 
of  the  Iliad  probably  never  heard  the  apple  story. 

50-57  The  philosophic  maxim  intruding  here  is  a  borrowed  line 
from  Hesiod.  The  two  meanings  of  "  shame  "  are  seen  in 
our  "  I  am  ashamed  to  do  it,"  and  "  I  am  ashamed  of  doing 
it."  In  one  case  we  are  restrained  from  the  sin,  in  the 
other  we  are  guilty  and  remorseful.  But  Achilles,  or  his 
poet,  never  uses  language  for  such  dialectic  purposes. 

61-69  Except  the  misleading  "  Heav'n  "  and  "  God,"  the  Greek  is 
fairly  rendered  here.  It  is  the  only  passage  where  Fates 
(,1/o/ra/)  are  mentioned  in  the  plural.  Notice  that  even 
here  no  spinning  is  mentioned.  Homer  says  only : 

"  The  fates  bestowed  on  men  a  spirit  able  to  endure." 

Compare  the  introductory  note  to  Book  XXIL,  p.  137. 

78-83  The  procession  of  the  great  gods  going  to  Thetis'  wedding 
is  a  favorite  subject  of  Greek  art,  beginning  with  the  fa- 
mous and  very  ancient  Fran9ois  vase.  Catullus'  longest 
poem  has  the  most  detailed  literary  description.  Hera's 
fondness  for  Thetis  is  not  indicated  in  other  books  of  Homer, 
and  at  the  close  of  Book  I.  we  had  the  opposite  impression 
as  to  her  feeling.  Later  accounts  explain  that  Hera  was 
grateful  to  her  rival  for  rejecting  Zeus'  suit. 

96  It  is  Pope  who  tints  Thetis  "  azure  "  and  her  sister's  hair 
"blue,"  because  they  have  marine  abodes. 

99  Iris  is  the  usual  divine  messenger  in  the  Iliad,  Hermes  in  the 
Odyssey.  Both  of  them,  and  Thetis  besides,  are  used  in  the 
rather  elaborate  "machinery"  of  this  book.  The  notion 


146  NOTES 

that  Iris  is  sent  especially  on  malicious  errands  cannot  be 
maintained.  That  she  is  the  personal  messenger  of  Zeus 
and  Hera  is  more  plausible.  See  especially  the  note  on  Vss. 
132-133.  That  Iris  is  originally  the  rainbow  can  hardly  be 
questioned,  though,  e.g.  in  vs.  115,  Homer  only  says  "fleet 
Iris."  Hermes  is  closely  associated  with  clouds,  as  Shake- 
speare saw  him  — 

"New-lighted  on  a  heaven-kissing  hill." 

103-104  Islands  of  the  Northern  JEgean.  "  Samos  "  is  the  classi- 
cal Samothrace.  N"otice  that  the  poet  is  here  thinking  dis- 
tinctly of  Thessalian  Olympus  as  the  divine  seat,  and  knows 
his  local  geography  perfectly. 

129  Homer  says  only,  "  They  found  wide-seeing  Zeus."  The  epic 
lightning  is  not  used  for  mere  illumination  or  diversion. 

132-133  In  the  eastern  section  of  the  great  Parthenon  frieze, 
Zeus  sits  with  Hera  on  one  side,  and  Pallas  Athene  is  really 
on  the  other,  though  a  group  of  mortals  apparently  comes 
between.  A  corner  of  the  Zeus-block,  missing  for  centuries, 
was  found  when  the  Acropolis  was  excavated  down  to  the 
bed-rock.  A  graceful  feminine  head  upon  it  was  promptly 
recognized  by  Dr.  Waldstein  as  Iris.  So  no  figure  of  our 
present  group  is  now  absent  from  the  group  in  the  frieze, 
except  the  reluctant  guest,  Thetis. 

193-194     Homer's  Zeus  speaks  with  full  knowledge  here  as  usual : 

"  Nowise  foolish  is  he,  nor  yet  malicious,  nor  thoughtless; 
Nay,  to  a  suppliant  man  he  will  mercy  accord,  as  is  fitting." 

250  Is  wholly  Pope's.  Homer  would  not  say  it,  for  of  course  it 
is  not  true  at  all,  literally.  Figuratively,  it  is  highly  effec- 
tive and  poetical;  but  it  is  also  highly  un-Homeric. 

259  Curiously  enough,  Homer  does  here  make  one  Fate  spin  Hec- 
tor's thread  of  life  at  his  birth-hour ;  but  Mr.  Pope,  so  fond 
else  whore  of  the  Fates  as  an  agency  of  doom,  misses  them 
this  time  altogether.  Compare  notes  on  Book  XXIV.,  vss. 
61-69,  and  XXII.,  beginning.  The  mention  of  Fate  as  the 
spinner  here  is  perhaps  in  itself  evidence  of  late  authorship. 
The  "spinners"  (Klothes)  are  mentioned  in  the  seventh 
book  of  the  Odyssey ;  but  the  great  passage  that  stamps 
them  on  our  imagination  is  in  Plato's  Republic,  p.  617, 


BOOK  XXIV  147 

285  chargers.  Not  horses,  but  platters,  or  kettles.  Cf.  Matthew 
xiv.  8. 

308  Xotice  the  curious  effect  of  "  dome."  Pope  could  have  said 
"  home." 

315-316  Perhaps  the  only  survivors  of  the  fifty  sons,  though 
Homer  does  not  say  it.  The  tragic  deaths  of  Polites  and 
Deiphobus,  the  happier  after-fate  of  Helenus,  are  described 
in  Virgil,  who  is  doubtless  copying  the  poems  of  the  "  Epic 
Cycle,"  as  the  early  Greek  epics  supplementing  Homer  are 
called.  The  rest  of  these  princes,  except  Paris,  are  quite 
unknown. 

322  Troilus  appears  nowhere  else  in  Homer.  His  death  makes 
one  of  the  striking  pictures  in  Dido's  temple,  &neid, 
Book  L,  vss.  474-478.  Chaucer,  Dryden,  Shakespeare,  have 
made  his  name  familiar  to  us. 

342  wain.  The  wagon  to  fetch  Hector's  body,  drawn  by  the 
mules,  while  Priam  in  his  "car,"  or  chariot,  is  driving  his 
horses. 

359  This  is  Zeus'  favorite  seat  while  watching  the  battles  in 
the  plain.  The  peak  is  an  old  volcanic  cone,  command- 
ing a  view  of  the  whole  Troadic  peninsula,  from  the 
Hellespont  to  the  Gulf  of  Adramyttium.  Poseidon  had 
an  equally  fine  outlook  from  the  supreme  crest  of  Samo- 
t brace. 

375  Rather,  in  the  middle  of  his  courtyard.  There,  at  Zeus' 
altar,  Priam  himself,  Hecuba,  and  Polites,  are  slain  not 
many  days  later  in  the  general  sack  of  Ilios. 

388  This  passage  (with  361)  is  the  only  mention  in  Homer  of 
the  eagle  as  Zeus'  bird.  This  may,  however,  be  merely  an 
accident. 

390  Percnos  is  not  a  name.  It  is  an  adjective  meaning  "  dark." 
Nor  are  the  gods  mentioned.  Homer  only  says,  "  The 
dusky  hunter  that  (men)  call  the  black  (eagle)." 

422  This  power  of  Hermes  is  presently  exercised  (vss.  547-548) . 
Perhaps  connected  with  it  is  Hermes'  duty  to  conduct  the 
souls  of  the  dead  to  Hades,  as  in  Odyssey,  XXIV.,  ad  init. 
Virgil  includes  this  task  also,  in  his  beautiful  imitation  of 
this  passage,  sEneid,  Book  IV.,  vss.  238-244. 

431     The  tomb  of  an  ancient  Trojan  king.     Ct.  Ninus'  tomb  in 


148  NOTES 

the  tale  of  Pyramus  and  Thisbe.  The  "  silver  spring " 
should  be  "  the  river,"  i.e.  Scamander. 

481-482     The  exploits  especially  referred  to  are  in  Book  XV. 

537  Achilles'  region  in  Thessaly  is  called  "  Pelasgian.  Argos." 
For  the  commoner  use  of  "  Argos  "  in  Homer,  see  note  on 
Book  L,  vs.  45. 

552  tent  should  be  cabin.  Though  built  of  local  materials, 
it  has  the  general  features  of  the  palace  of  an  Achaian 
prince,  as  hall,  court,  vestibule,  colonnade.  See  Jebb's 
Introduction  to  Homer,  pp.  57-62. 

566  Wholly  Pope's  addition.  "  Arts  "  here  seems  to  mean  merely 
"  tricks."  Pallas  is  the  patroness  of  weaving,  carving,  and 
the  fine  arts  generally. 

599  Priam's  first  utterance  is  a  master-touch.  It  is  the  appeal 
from  racial  hate  to  human  and  filial  kindliness. 

638-639  Strange  that  Pope  could  interrupt  such  a  current  of 
real  and  deepest  emotion  with  his  u  gushes "  and  his 
"  tides "  !  The  simplest  words  are  strongest  when  the 
elemental  chords  of  human  feeling  are  touched.  Verses 
644-045  are  worse  yet,  if  possible,  and  vs.  646  with  its 
feeble  antithesis  is  also  an  unwelcome  gift  from  the 
rhymer. 

705  Achilles  realizes  the  savage  in  himself,  and  begs  Priam  not 
to  rouse  it  by  a  rash  word  of  doubt  or  excessive  haste. 

710     A  bad  error.   See  notes  on  Book  L,  vs.  469  and  Book  L,  vs.  555. 

739  A  last  and  magnificent  reminder  that  comradeship  in  arms 
was  more  to  Achilles  than  all  other  ties.  The  student 
should  by  all  means  read  of  the  appearance  of  Patroclus  to 
Achilles  in  a  dream  early  in  Book  XXIII. 

757  if.  Niobe,  queen  of  Thebes,  had  boasted  that  she  had  twelve 
children,  Leto  only  two.  The  famous  group  of  statues 
in  Florence,  representing  the  stricken  family,  is  well 
known. 

762  Cynthia,  i.e.  Artemis,  Apollo's  sister,  named  from  Cynthus, 
a  mountain  in  Delos,  their  island  birthplace. 

773  The  poet  here  shows  clearly  his  local  familiarity.  There  is 
still  shown  on  Mt.  Sipylus,  not  far  from  Smyrna,  a  figure 
in  high  relief  against  the  natural  rock.  The  hand  of  man 
has  aided  an  accident  of  nature,  and,  as  seen  from  a  point 


BOOK  XXIV  149 

some  two  hundred  feet  below,  the  resemblance  to  a  weep- 
ing woman  is  complete,  especially  when  a  rivulet  trickles 
down  the  rocks. 

775  Acheloiis,  a  small  river  of    Lydia,  not,  of  course,  the  great 

and  famous  stream  in  Western  Greece. 

776  fairies  is  perhaps  too  modern  in  its  coloring.     Homer  says 

"  nymphs." 

804-805     Strange  and  artificial,  even  for  Pope.     Homer's  Priam 
merely  wishes  to  "  sate  himself  with  sweet  sleep." 

843  Achilles  is  seen  no  more.  His  own  fate  has  been  plainly 
foreshadowed  thrice  in  the  Iliad,  the  last  time  by  the  dying- 
Hector.  His  death,  the  struggle  for  his  body,  the  funeral, 
at  which  his  mother's  sisters  were  present  from  their  watery 
home,  and  "all  the  Muses  nine  with  sweet  voice  wailed 
responsive,"  is  described  to  his  ghost  by  Agamemnon's, 
early  in  Book  XXIV.  of  the  Odyssey ;  but  the  passage  is 
not  a  very  early  one.  The  same  speech  of  Agamemnon's 
spirit  describes  the  cremation  of  the  body,  and  the  reunion 
of  his  bones  and  ashes  in  one  urn  with  Patroclus',  as  they 
had  both  requested  in  Iliad,  XXIII.  The  later  myth  of 
Achilles'  wedlock  in  the  after-life  with  Helen,  in  the  White 
Island,  is  not  unnatural.  (See  note  on  p.  143.) 
There  is  a  copious  and  imaginative  chapter  in  Symonds' 
Greek  Poets  especially  devoted  to  the  characterization  of 
Achilles.  Though  the  crafty  Odysseus  is  nearer  the  na- 
tional type,  yet  the  more  youthful  and  chivalric  figure 
exercised  a  mighty  influence  throughout  later  antiquity. 
Alexander  the  Great  especially  envied  him  "  who  had  a 
Homer  to  sing  his  exploits."  Herodotus  makes  even 
Xerxes  visit  Achilles'  tomb  and  sacrifice  to  his  shade. 
The  Attic  dramatists  sometimes  ventured  to  put  themselves 
in  indirect  rivalry  with  Homer,  depicting  other  scenes  of 
Achilles'  life  than  those  included  in  the  Iliad,  but  the 
tragedies  in  which  he  had  a  prominent  part  are  not  among 
the  few  preserved  to  us.  Shakespeare  is  nearly  at  his  worst, 
if  it  is  his  hand  at  all,  in  Troilus  and  Cressida.  Goethe 
began  an  Achilleis  to  continue  the  Iliad,  but  he  quickly 
desisted.  So  it  is  still  in  Homeric  song  only,  for  a  few 
scenes  in  the  closing  days  of  his  brief  life,  that  we  behold  — 


150  NOTES 

"  The  form  of  great  Achilles  high  and  clear 
Stand  forth  in  arms  wielding  the  Peliau  spear." 

His  free  choice  of  brief  and  glorious  life,  in  preference  to 
ignoble  length  of  years,  appeals  to  every  ambitious  youth. 
It  may  be  interesting  to  note,  that  Homer  once  makes 
Achilles,  but  no  other  hero,  play  the  lyre  and  sing  "  the 
glories  of  men."  Is  this  a  daring  intimation  of  the  high 
estimate  the  poet  really  set  upon  his  own  craft  of  song? 

862     Xanthus,  i.e.  Scamander.     (See  note  on  vs.  390.) 

870  Cassandra,  Hector's  sister,  afterward  captive  of  Agamemnon, 
and  slain  with  him  by  his  wife  on  his  return  home. 
(Odyssey,  Book  XI.)  The  story  that  Apollo  gave  her  the 
power  of  prophecy,  and  the  curse  of  being  never  believed, 
is  later  than  Homer. 

906  Andromache  appears  only  thrice  in  the  Iliad,  and  all  three 
scenes  are  fortunately  included  in  the  present  selection. 
She  is  probably  more  interesting  to  us  than  she  could  be 
to  any  Greek.  Mediaeval  chivalry  naturally  set  her  hus- 
band's love  for  her  above  Achilles'  love  of  Patroclus  as  a 
comrade.  So  her  Hector,  not  his  slayer,  is  included  in  the 
lists  of  nine  unapproachable  heroes,  three  pagans,  three 
Jews,  three  Christians.  (See  especially  Shakespeare's  Love's 
Labor's  Lost,  Act  V.,  Scene  II.) 

921  The  line  is  here  reprinted  as  in  the  original  edition,  and 
doubtless  in  every  other,  but  the  parenthesis  is  un-Homeric, 
undignified,  and — to  the  present  editor  —  quite  unintel- 
ligible. 

960  A  most  amusing  collection  might  be  made  of  the  examples 
of  hyperbole  in  Pope's  Iliad,  describing  tears  alone. 

962-980  Helen's  appearance  here  is  chiefly  to  bring  out. strikingly 
the  lifelong  courtesy  of  Troy's  very  perfect  knight,  Hector. 
There  is  an  excellent  parallel  in  Book  XIX.,  when  Briseis, 
restored  to  Achilles'  cabin,  finds  Patroclus  lying  dead. 
(Pope's  Iliad,  XIX.,  vss.  299-320.) 

964     Though  not  elsewhere  mentioned,  this  long  absence  of  Helen 

.  from  Sparta  is  not  hard  to  understand.     Troy  holds  out 

nine  years,  falls  in  the  tenth.     Odysseus,  in  the  companion 

epic,   wanders   for   nine   years,"  and   reaches  home  in  the 

tenth.     So  the  union  of  all  the  Greek  chieftains  in  a  for- 


BOOK   XXIV  151 

eign  expedition  is  known,  from  other  passages,  to  have 
been  reluctant  and  difficult.  Odysseus'  craft,  the  fears  of 
Achilles'  parents,  the  jealousies  of  all,  delayed  the  actual 
setting  forth,  it  appears,  until  ten  years  after  Helen's 
flight.  Divine  on  her  father's  side,  probably  on  both,  she 
lost  none  of  her  charms  with  the  lapsing  years. 
Homer's  sympathy  with  his  fickle-hearted  heroine  seems 
clear.  We  are  almost  beguiled  into  forgetting  that  her  sin 
has  caused  a  whole  Iliad  of  misery.  In  the  Odyssey  we 
are  even  bidden  to  believe  that  Helen  alone  has  no  suffer- 
ing to  endure  in  atonement.  This  is,  indeed,  making  her, 
as  did  a  Cyclic  poet,  the  daughter  of  Zeus  and  Nemesis,  a 
wholly  extra-human  being.  In  fact,  the  Odyssey  itself 
expressly  says  she  is  not  subject  to  death.  Here,  however, 
Helen  seems  distinctly  human,  and  so  forlorn,  so  utterly 
isolated  by  her  guilt,  that  Hector's  or  Andromache's  doom 
is  blessed  in  comparison  to  hers.  It  is  incredible  that  the 
fourth  Odyssey  is  from  the  same  hand  as  this  scene. 

973  Pope  makes  a  very  curious  omission  here ;  he  ignores  a  line 
of  Homer,  stating  that  Priam  was  always  courteous  to  his 
unwelcome  daughter-in-law,  and  intimating  that  Hecuba 
was  not.  The  former  statement  is  well  illustrated  by  the 
famous  meeting  of  Helen  and  Priam,  on  the  tower  over 
the  Scaean  gate,  in  Book  III.  (Pope,  vss.  187-218.)  The 
poet's  comparative  indifference  to  Hecuba  reminds  us  of  a 
familiar  line  in  Hamlet.  A  strange  later  legend  declared 
she  was  finally  transformed  into  a  dog. 

1015-1016  Homer  takes  a  dignified  and  quiet  farewell  of  this 
hero  of  a  lost  cause.  The  last  verse  is,  — 

"  So  was  a  funeral  made  for  Hector,  the  tamer  of  horses," 
or  perhaps  better,  — 
"  So  they  made  ready  a  grave  for  Hector,  the  tamer  of  horses.'1 

Pope  is  less  happy.  The  first  verse  cf  his  couplet  trans- 
lates the  Greek  fairly.  The  rhyme  brings  in  something 
we  can  hardly  accept.  Scrooge  was  doubtful  if  Marley's 
ghost  was  physically  capable  of  sitting  down  in  an  arm- 
chair. As  to  Homeric  spirits,  we  are  little  better  informed, 
though  Odysseus  makes  a  long  and  adventurous  visit 


152  NOTES 

among  the  dead;  but  at  any  rate  no  one  of  them  is  de- 
scribed, here  or  elsewhere,  as  sleeping  peacefully,  nor  even 
as  sleeping  at  all. 
The  old  Greek  commentators  knew  some  texts  that  read  — 

"  So  they  made  ready  a  grave  for  Hector :   The  Amazon  straightway 
Came,  who  was  daughter  to  Ares,  the  furious  driver  of  horses." 

This  is  a  reminiscence  of  the  time  when  the  Iliad  was 
built  into  the  larger  structure  of  the  "  Epic  Cycle,"  which 
had  been  so  trimmed  as  to  give  one  long  and  complete 

•  account  of  the  Trojan  war  and  all  the  connected  myths. 
But  better  perceptions  of  art  revived,  the  inferior  poems 
have  perished  long  ago,  the  two  supreme  masterpieces  of 
epic  alone  remain.  Together  they  make  an  ideal  picture 
of  a  truly  heroic  age.  Their  chief  value  will  ahvays  be 
neither  archaeological  nor  historical,  but  artistic. 

With  all  its  aberrations  from  the  exact  truth  about  Homer's 
world,  Mr.  Pope's  rendering  maintains,  and  will  long 
maintain,  an  important  position  in  general  literature. 
Even  as  a  translation,  its  merits  are  more  remarkable  than 
its  defects.  Clearness,  vigor,  simple  syntax,  refined  taste, 
rhythmic  smoothness,  and  unfailing  dignity  in  the  use  of 
our  exacting  English  rhyme, —  all  this  makes  a  combina- 
tion which  will  always  be  rare.  These  powers,  moreover, 
are  sustained  without  flagging  through  an  even  perform- 
ance of  almost  twenty  thousand  lines.  Young  Mr.  Pope 
builded  himself  a  lasting  monument. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


JSP 


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2  2  1961 

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JUL  1  4  »>» 

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LD  21A-50m-4,'60 
(A9562slO)476B 


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